#sleeping with hidden knives close at hand lol

[peachyloveswriting]

What would Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives do about sick reader? Like reader knew they had been getting sick for a few days but saying stuff like "I sneezed from the dusty sand" or "I choked on my spit. I wasn't coughing. " they keep coming up with stuff to say till they have a fever and collapse.

YES. MORE FOR KNIVES. I actually really enjoy writing for knives. He's such a complicated character to get right because he hates humans and more often than not the reader is portrayed as human. His feelings are so contradictory but I love it.

You're Only Human (After all)

SUMMARY: Vash, Wolfwood, and Naï, find out that you've been hiding a sickness from them. The outcome feels like a nightmare come true.

NOTES: Vash and knives parts are very long. There's a shit ton of angst but there's also hurt/comfort. I'd say it took me 16 hrs total from start to finish and that's partially because a huge part of Kives original part got deleted and yeah... I couldn't remember some of it. Enjoy tho lol.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Vash

Setting up camp for the night was no easy task, getting up to gather what everyone needs to sleep comfortably while helping Meryl set up her own tent. Yours always comes last and before you can even finish Roberto is asking you to help him cook. You never stop working and seize every opportunity to stay on your feet, the restlessness that comes with stagnancy kills you. Through constantly throwing yourself into work is painful and tiring, it's been even more so than usual.

"Hey kid. Come and help with this roast."

You ignore Roberto's request, too tired to even think straight much less give a coherent thought, only curling further into the backseat of the truck. In the back of your throat has settled an itch, one that's not quite there but prominent enough to make you force down a cough. It bubbles up suddenly, making you gasp for air in-between coughs. Your throat burns in pain and tenses as it stops.

Soft foot steps pad up to the open door. Meryl peeks in at you with worry before she fixes herself right. "Uh... Sorry if I'm bothering you but could you help me with my tent again?" She clasps her hands together, eagerly waiting for your answer.

Nick watches from the outside of his own tent, gazing at your still form while his hands blindly settle the cross firmly into the sand. He doesn't decide to speak until Meryl extends a hand to tap you. "I'll do it." He offers.

Meryl turns to look at him with a disgruntled smile. "Thanks?" He scoffs. "Yup. Don't mention it. And close the door while you're at it."

Meryl looks at your limp form, not wanting to close any limbs in the door she checks just to be sure before she carefully closes the door. Just before walking away she takes one last peek inside to see if she disturbed you but you haven't moved an inch. Taking a deep breath she turns to stand beside Nick while he puts her tent together.

The night carried on and with it came Vash. To everyone else the night went on as usual but to Vash, a part of him was missing. When he looked for your tent he was sad to find that it hadn't been set up at all. This only worried the blonde further. His stomach would churn with unease the further he looked around. There was no sign on you anywhere. Just as he was about to peek around the truck, a soft finger tapped his shoulder. He turned to find Meryl gazing up at him.

"If you're looking for them..." She points to the truck. "They've been there all evening."

Hia gaze follows her pointed finger to the backseat of the truck. Offering her thanks, he rushes over to the truck and pulls open the door. You lay curled up on the farthest side away from him, your face hidden and tucked away in your arms. Face softening, Vash climbs into the empty space by your feel and closes the door behind him, ensuring privacy.

"Mayfly?" He leans over curiously, his hand slipping under your chin to lift your face into view. You grimace, your head swimming in agony and dizziness. "Are you okay?" His cries crease in concern.

Lazily, you lift a hand to swat him away. Setting your head back on your arms he lifts the back of his hand to your forehead. "You feel hot. Maybe you should get out of the car. Get some fresh air." His hand brushes over your head in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine." He smiles at your half-hearted grumble.

"If you say so..." Swiftly grabbing your shoulder, Vash scoops you up into his arms with ease and scoots to press his back to the door. He spreads his legs and leans back just enough for you to lay comfortably on his chest. You're just lethargic enough that you flop against him, no resistance whatsoever.

He stayed with you until the morning, upset when he kept waking up to you practicing choking in your sleep. Every time he raises a hand to your forehead it burns his skin. You were certainly running a fever of some kind or at the very least sick, he's never seen you so lethargic before. You've always stayed on your feet, working yourself to the brink, till' your legs won't carry you anymore. This might just be one of those spells but you never left the truck. Even when he got out to help everyone pack up you didn't move.

When everyone gathered inside the truck, you didn't move, allowing yourself to get shoved around to make room for Wolfwood and Vash. As Vash climbed in, he scowled at the priest who shoved you about as if you were some object he could just discard. Gently scooping you far enough to slide in. he laid you back down in his lap and held you close, allowing you to get some rather comfortable rest. Hours later, you woke up in a daze. The heat consuming you from head to toe is unbearable, breathing comes harshly.

You can see legs moving through the sand below you as you wake up but very quickly realize they're not yours. You begin to feel hands under each of your knees and your body pressed against another. Below you, Vash's coat flaps into view, the edges of it tugging about with each step.

You groan, dizzy from the heat and disoriented. Your head is reeling about, begging to go back to sleep and crying at the same time. Every part of you aches and your throat feels like it's been grated like fine cheese.

"You're awake!" Vash turns his head to look at you nuzzled into his shoulder. Swallowing harshly, you lift your head to glance at him. "Where are we?"

You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding like a decrepit frog that smokes cigarettes. It feels like you haven't drank in forever and your stomach rumbles angrily. Suddenly Vash jumps to keep you up on his back, you whine at the sudden jolt and dig your hands into the chest of his shirt. He grimaces at your painful response.

"You okay?" Forcing yourself to right yourself, you begin to wriggle in his hold. "M' fine. Put me down."

Vash's brows creased with worry. "Are you sure? You've-"

Pushing from his hold you fall into the scorching sands. Hissing in pain, you jump to your feet jostling your brain into a wave of vertigo. Your hand shoots out to find purchase while your vision grows dark. Tingles flood your body as a low dull pain pulses in your head. Two arms scoop you up into security, keeping you from falling back into the hot sands. "Whoa!"

Vash steadies you as you lean against him limply for help. "Slow down. You're not well." His hands move to your shoulders. A long drawn out couch slips from your lips. You shake away from his hole to walk towards the group, they're way ahead of you occasionally glancing back to stop and wait. "I'm fine."

You trudge forward at your own discretion and Vash follows closely behind. "Let me carry you Mayfly." A hand comes to rest at the small of your back. Beneath you, your legs shake horribly, threatening to lose your balance. It's hard just to push forward in the sand without wincing from the sore ache that settles into your bones. "I'll be fine, Vash."

The desert becomes distant, a cold covering your whole body like ice. "I'm..." The sky began to darken, blotting out the light from the suns and the sand beneath you.

"oh!" Slipping forward, Vash stretches an arm over your chest to stop your falling body from collapsing in the sand. The over exertion is obvious and your body makes it hard to deny. Vash can see it clearly, the bleary look in your eyes as he scoops your bridal style in his arms. Gazing down at you with an unreadable expression, he shakes his head. "How long has this been going on?"

You roll your head into his chest, shielding your eyes from the suns. Breathing in to speak you choke out a cough, you can hardly catch a breath in-between. When you finish, your head falls back softly. "A few weeks ago." You mumble weakly.

A frown settles upon his lips as he looks ahead at the horizon, the glare on his shades stops you from seeing his eyes. Those are always a dead give away for how he's feeling. Those shades work wonders for him.

Taking a shaky breath, you relax in Vash's arms. "Don't worry. I'll take you to a doctor. You should rest until then."

You shake your head. "Won't you get tired of carrying me?"

He looks back down at you smiling softly. The smile reaches up to his eyes, softening his gaze and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. "I will. It's okay, I'm supposed to take care of you Mayfly. Just rest." His voice is so soft he's almost whispering. It makes a heat swirl in your chest as you close your eyes.

"I'm sorry Vash."

He chuckles. "It's alright my love."

Wolfwood

Sweat beads along your forehead as you follow the giant wandering cross in front of you. Your wavering pace slows you down even more the longer you push forward. It's so far away now. When was the last time you even had water? God, you can't remember. Trudging through the sands makes the ache in your already sore leg grow worse, you can barely lift your feet from the ground.

Breathing is a labor, it burns your lungs with each breath you take, the longer you go without calling for Nick's help the more dire this starts to become. The dull ache in your head is pounding with the intensity of the suns and your body grows weaker. You regret lying to Nick before he ran out of gas, you knew them you should have said something but the situation was bad enough. You thought saying something then would only cause more worry to settle in Nick's mind and you didn't want to burden him.

Suddenly, searing hot pain blossoms on your exposed skin and sand hugs your body as it lands. Your mind is foggy and blank, you watch Nick grow smaller in the distance not even bothering to look back at you. You rasp his name but your throat doesn't allow you to call any louder than a simple talking tone. After traveling with Nick everywhere, you never thought it would end like this, laying in the sand pathetically sick because of your irrational fear and Inability to ask for help.

Suddenly, in the distance. The space between you and Nick closes in. He runs towards you, tossing the cross all about on his back. Distantly you can hear him call your name for the first time ever, he's only ever called you by silly nicknames. You don't give much care to mutter a response and sink into the sand.

Panic squeezes in Nick's chest and he drops his cross beside him to tend to you. Grabbing your shoulders he turns you over and sits you up in his lap. "C'mon. Don't fall asleep." He begs.

You cough up a laugh. The concern in his face grows even more severe with your seeming obliviousness to the situation. "I'm fine..." You want to shrug him off so bad but even moving feels like hell.

Heart pounding in his chest, Nick swallows harshly "You haven't been fine since we got stranded, have you?" The back of his hand feels freezing as he presses it to your forehead. You grimace with discomfort and whine. "I'm not stupid." Carefully, he stands with you in his arms.

As he turns to walk away you spot his cross on the ground. "Your cross..." Nick acknowledges it with a hum. His face is stern, pointedly staring straight again with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'll get it back later. You need medical attention first."

You smile. "So you're saying you care?"

His grip on you begins to tighten. *Of course I do! Don't fucking scare me like that again." He growls.

"Sure." Sleep tugs your eyes closed, pulling at your weight the less conscious you become. Nick glares down at you, squeezing you tighter against him. He feels your body grow limp in his arms, heart dropping to his stomach.

"What did I say? Don't fall asleep." You're jostled awake with a groan. "Just let me sleep. Please."

"And if you don't wake up again?" He's become eerily nonchalant. "What then?" The edge in his voice shakes with worry, tracing the thoughts of what might unfold after your death. His chest aches at the thought of losing you and he won't say it but he's scared of losing you. "It'll kill me..."

Nick will never admit it but you do more for him then he lets on. Your company alone could last him a lifetime, your smile, it could make him happy forever. Everything about you fixes everything bad about him and he's not ready to give that up. Especially not over some silly illness. Hearing his words and understanding what he means, you coo quietly and rest your hand over his heart. Your touch quells his fraying nerves.

"I drag you down Nico." Your heart weighs heavy in your chest. "It might be better if you leave me behind."

Stomach clenching wearily, Nick grunts. "No." Venoms laces his tongue. "You idiot. I love you too much to do that." You gaze at him in surprise. "Don't look at me like that. I said what I said. You should just be quiet and conserve your energy."

Hesitant, you gaze at him for a few moments longer before letting your head rest carefully against his chest. "I'll get you help. Just hang in there."

Millions Knives

Sitting beside Naï, he plays the piano. Quietly, you watch his fingers dance over the keys as they belt out a dramatic yet familiar melody. It strikes the soul as misunderstood, you know it well. Many times has Naï played this song in your presence. You've heard everything he plays, as his words command you stay by his side under his watchful eye. Many of his followers take this as a sign of mistrust, a show that the human race will never take his attention. Naï has said to you before: "Hear me and believe my word. My trust in you is not misguided, I only wish to protect you from those who wish to harm you."

Despite hating humans, Naï knows his fair share about the ways they operate. He understands the delicacy of your body and handles it with immense measure and meticulous care. He keeps you near to prevent his followers from making a move to take your life. For him, he even strives to understand more about you, to protect you. His care for you and your well-being runs deep, although Naï doesn't quite understand why it's you he's so careful about, he understands that you make him feel something.

Naï, even in his own strange way, shows that he cares for you. He appreciates the company you keep him and he's not foreign with thanking you. Just the same your appreciation runs deep, he offers you friendship, safety, food, and a place to lay your head at night. Above all else, his friendship and company you find the most rewarding, to know so much about him is to see under his facade. Knowing that underneath all of those sharp blades, a gentle, and caring man resides. Only sparing himself to his closet confidants.

Beautifully, the keys fade into an epilogue, an ending to the story it once opened with. You find that as you watch with a smile your lungs begin to burn. A cough tries to bubble its way past your lips, it takes your breath away and chokes you on the way out. Turning away to cover your mouth, you find it hard to catch your breath and tears blur your vision. The melody that had once carried through the room now falls silent in the stead of your sputtering.

Worry tingles in Naï's chest as you gasp for air beside him, he's unsure of what to do or what this is. His knowledge might be expansive but he still has so much to learn, about sickness, potential threats, the many causes of death. His lack of awareness makes his heart quell with concern and his mind reel is fear.

"Are you alright?" His voice carries through the harmonious room. Tentatively his hand hovers over your back.

You wipe the tears from your eyes to see his angelic face clearly. "It's okay Naï, just choked on my spit."

Cautiously, he looks you over with care checking for abnormalities along your external appearance. Your eyes are dark and lightly sunken, despite noticing this fast Naï goes along with your word and nods in earnest. You feel scrutinized under his gaze, like he's judging every part of you without ever saying a word.

"Choked?" He queries. "Is this choking, dangerous?" His brows crease with worry.

"Well..." Recalling gasping for air, the onslaught of coughing as it keeps you from breathing in deep enough to catch your breath makes you choose your next words with ease. "Yes. It can be, depending on the circumstances. But it can also be prevented"

Intensely focused, Naï nods. "How can this be prevented?" His absolute attention is always divulged onto you anytime you talk, it's endearing, the way he listens to every detail. Nothing you've said has ever been forgotten by him, he remembers everything, making it a point to bring it up when useful later on. It tells you that he cares about what you have to say, knowing that makes your heart soar.

"Drinking a glass of water, or anything of likeness, then there's the heimlich. You should ask Con'rad about that if you want to understand it." Although many of the things that Naï knows about humans have been acquired through you, there are many things you can't find the energy to explain. Best someone else with more knowledge explains it to avoid any confusion.

"I'll go visit him then." Naï stands. "Come. I'll escort you to the room." Gently, you hold his outstretched hand, letting it guide you to your feet. He holds it gingerly as he pulls you alongside him. His hand is soft and warm, inhumanely so, you find comfort in his warmth.

The more time chugs along the more you begin to realize you've fallen I'll, coughing spells out of nowhere, extreme fatigue, loss of appetite. The coughing grows worse with intensity, burning your sore throat, your body wastes energy faster, and waking up in the morning becomes a difficult task. For longer times you would lay in bed seeking the comfort of your companion, Naï, despite hiding your growing illness from him. He's buying into what you told him, though it won't last for very long. If he's really that worried he'll seek the knowledge of Con'rad once again.

He knows your habits even down to the smallest details, including your sleep schedule. Though sleep is the only time he lets you spend alone, that's only in his room, the only ones allowed inside are you and him. As far as his knowledge goes, since you last went in about a day ago, no one has bothered to enter. Not even Naï himself would go to see you. He figured you only needed a little alone time before you might come out again to grace him with your company. The time rolled around for you to come out but the door never opened, Naï waited in anticipation, trying to stace off the minutes to spare you time.

The paranoia got to him before you could.

The whole time you've been inside he's only let the door out of his sight once, for only a short amount of time. Very few people would dare enter knowing what punishment would await them if he ever found out but just the thought of someone going in and hurting you... It makes his blood boil. He paces just outside with worry and frustration beginning to build just beneath the surface. He has to know you're okay, he has to hear you speak... No. No, he needs something more... He has to see you physically. Otherwise, he might just lose his mind wondering what awaits him inside.

Eager to finally see your face again, to hear your voice and feel your touch, he pushes the door open. Eyes scouring the darkness for your form he finally spots you laying still beneath the covers of his bed, you make no sound as the door closes and you stay still even as he says your name. In his chest, his heart begins to pound wildly, sending the rest of his body into a frenzy of feelings.

He rushes to the bedside, a singular blade extending to turn the lights on. The darkness cowers away at the flick of a switch and your form is revealed amongst his mattress. Almost stripped bare of your clothes you lay unmoving, almost as if the life from inside you has been drained. Chest straining, Naï climbs over top of your body lowering his head to your chest, your skin feels cold against his ear as he listens for a heartbeat.

Just underneath your delicate skin beats the rhythm of your life, it beats on even as you lay utterly still. Naï can feel his shoulders relax, the sound of your heart telling him that you're indeed still alive, but as he pulls away to further examine you he knows something's not quite right. it makes his stomach churn with unease. Your skin tone seems off, like something's not quite the same as it was before.

As softly as he can, Naï shakes your body. After the first movement he expects you to come to life with a groan but you don't move. If your heart is still beating, why won't you wake up?

"My flower, wake up. You've slept long enough. I need your company by my side." He shakes you harder this time. "Petal, wake up. I demand it." He tries to sound like he normally does when addressing everyone else but he can't seem to find it in himself to truly yell at you, to demand something of you. Especially not when you're stripped of your freedom at this moment.

Naï's throat tightens, his brows creasing with worry and fear. He's so confused, you usually wake up when he calls for you but now he's got nothing. It scares him, knowing just how fragile you really are, it aside now that he rushes you to Con'rad.

Before he parts to the lab, he envelopes your exposed body in his cloak and carries you in his arms. Nothing like this takes more than the blink of an eye, Con'rad barely even has time to process his master's sudden appearance. Everything is thrust at him at once, the fear and confusion that riddles Naï's face when he presents you to Con'rad, how he begs for him to find out what's wrong, to fix you.

Con'rad frowns at your unconscious body as he takes you from his master's arms. "Careful! Don't hurt them." Naï warns.

Con'rad can only cast him a glance before he sets you down on a table, he collects his supplies needed to check you over and watches as Naï retracts the cloak that is wrapped so tightly around your body.

To plants, a decade is only supposed to feel like a day. So why did Naï feel like it had already been years when it was only minutes. He stared at you intently, waiting for you to wake up, willing you to do something. But you didn't move at all. Naï was anxious from tip to bottom, so to quell his nerves Con'rad began explaining things to him.

"Like we discussed, humans are susceptible to many things, illness being one of them. Should a person go an extended amount of time without medication or medical attention, it can cause death. This happens to be the case with your friend. You're lucky you found them when you did Knives. I can still run this IV to get the right fluids in check. After, you can take them back to your room, the IV has to stay in until it's empty though." He eyes the bleach blond from the corner of his eyes as he tapes the IV to your arm. "Again. You're lucky. They should recover soon. But they'll need plenty of rest."

Naï steps away from the wall he had leaned on, the blades slither out from behind his back and circle you carefully until they meld into his cloak once more. Content, he carefully picks you from the table with ease, using another metal appendage to grasp the IV bag.

"Thank you." Naï bows his head to Con'rad in thanks. Before he can reply Naï is gone again just as fast as he appeared.

Returning back to the privacy of his room, Naï gently sets you at the edge of the bed where he could rest the IV bag beside you. Leaving you swaddled in his cloak, Naï climbs up the bed behind you. For a moment he's hesitant to touch you, like it's the wrong thing to do but he pushes forward. Softly laying an arm over your waist, he pulls you flush against him, his face tucked into the back of your neck. He would lay here until you woke, until then, Naï would relish in the feeling of your body against his and find comfort in your presence by his side.

He might lecture you when you wake up, or inspect you thoroughly for any other sickness, but he also might enjoy your waking company for a moment before he does anything else.

[workingforthewidow]

Woah look at me actually posting 2 things within the same month lol- this is a part 2 to the Otis fic i posted a few days ago. You don’t HAVE to read it to understand this but it does help! I have honestly fallen in love with Otis and his Princess so I might start doing small one-shots in this universe so if you have any ideas or request let me know!

Warnings: as stated reader is in deep for Otis like so much Stockholm syndrome going on. Slight smut. Reference to non-con. This is Otis we are talking about so he can be a warning himself. But also OOC Otis like he’s super sweet but still in an Otis way. Blood. Lots of blood. Killing people. Knives. If there’s any major i missed please let me know! But yeah- don’t like it don’t read it.

She/her pronouns for reader. I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum, did mention pulling readers hair a lot but I mean i pull my husbands hair a lot and he has short hair so yeah.

18+

Word count 3,698. Link to part 1

She woke up to hear steady soft snores in her ear and the feeling of shallow sleepy breaths under her. A long pale arm wrapped around her waist held her securely to him. He stayed. He really stayed this time like he promised. Usually he was gone by the time she woke up. Maybe it was still night and she had just woken too early. But she could see the rays of light streaming in from the window. It was morning for sure. She lifted her head as much as she could and luckily she could see the clock on the wall. One of his few gifts to her. He wouldn’t give her a calendar but he at least got her the clock so she could have some time awareness. The hands of the clock read 1:49. They had gotten home at 1:30am. And by the time all was said and done she imagine she fell asleep no later than 2:30am. They had slept for 11 hours. He never slept that much. She was about to try to wake him when his grip tightened on her waist pulling her against him. He brushed his nose against her hair and kissed her forehead.

“Stop fucking moving and go back to sleep Princess.” He mumbled against her skin.

She relaxed against him and hummed contently. “But it’s almost 2 in the afternoon. We’ve been sleeping all day.”

“And if I say go back to sleep you fucking go back to sleep. Sleep for the next week if I say so.” He grunted out at her.

She nodded her head against his chest and closed her eyes again. What game was this? For sure a new one, they had never played a game like this before. Maybe it was the calm before the storm and next time she woke up he’d have her hanging from meat hooks on the ceiling or thrown back in the basement.

She was never able to fall back asleep. She just stayed very still against him other than occasionally tracing her fingers up and down his chest lazily like she was in a dream. Finally once the sun was setting did he stir awake. She was mid way up his chest near his heart when his hand clutched hers. If she wasn’t so use to him it would have hurt but she knew his grip was stronger than an alligators bite.

“Mornin’ Princess.” His still half asleep voice was low and rough. She laughed a little and shook her head.

“Ain’t mornin’ anymore. Almost dinner time.”

As if on cue Baby’s voice could be heard from the bottom of the stairs, “Otis! I haven’t seen my little best friend in two whole days. It’s about time you let her down here to see me and Mama.”

Otis groaned and rubbed his face before flinging her off him onto the floor. He stood up and looked down at where she had stayed on the floor like his good little girl. “Put some clothes on.” He threw her a pile of fabric at her. She separated it to reveal her shorts and one of his ‘burn this flag’ tank tops. Another change to the game. He never let her wear his clothes outside of the flannel she got to wear during the winter. Even then it was just the one and she had to keep track of it or else it was taken and hidden from her in a wicked game of hide and seek. She slid the clothes on without questioning him. “Perfect.” He grabs her face and kisses her harshly. But not as harshly as during a game. It wasn’t a true romantic kiss like the one from the night before but it wasn’t a one sided “I own you and can put my mouth anywhere I please” kiss either. “Come on Sweetheart.” He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the table.

The family were already seated and she noticed four guest sitting on the far end of the table. Two men and two women. One of the men looked extremely excited to be there while the other man and the women looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Mama immediately got up at the sight of them and floated towards them. She was so elegant and graceful.

“Oh my sweet Otis and little Darling. You joined us. How special is this? Come sit, sit. We have guest and it’s Halloween. I am blessed today.” She cooed before returning to her seat. “Masks on everyone.” She announced placing her own masks on her face. The others followed suit with the expect of one of the women and Otis and his girl.

“Put the damn mask on or she won’t let us have dessert!” Grandpa huffed from across the table.

The women sneered towards Otis and her, “They don’t have masks. Why do I have to do it?” Oh she was an entitled thing. Otis hated that kind of girl, his princess was never like that not even when he first got her.

“Playin’ by different rules sugar.” Otis spat out at her with venom laced words. She looked at him shocked before placing the mask on her face. The group ate in silence for a few minutes before the man who was acting like he was at DisneyLand spoke up.

“So uh any of you heard of Doctor Satan?” Everyone’s eyes shot up and glared holes into his head. She looked around at Mama and then to Otis who cleared his throat. He went on to spin the tale of Doctor Satan as if it were just that, a story. But she knew better. She knew the truth. Before anything else could be said Baby rang the gong. Time for her show.

Everyone filed into the show room and watched as Baby did her performance. She was a natural talent. She could even be in the picture shows. Baby was dancing close to one of the men and the woman next to him seemed to be jealous. She thought that’s probably what she would like that when Baby was all over Otis if she didn’t know the truth about their relationship. Sure they had done things in the past but once Otis brought her home and finally into his room and Baby claimed her as her “little best friend” all sexual acts between them stopped.

“A girl doesn’t two-time on her little best friend, Otis. She’d get all upset and cry. Best friends don’t make each other cry.” She had told him once he tried to get handsy with her. He didn’t care if the stupid girl got upset. He just wanted a good fuck and the girl locked in his room had yet to truly prove herself to him. Sure she could spread her legs and open her mouth but she wasn’t as exciting as Baby. Until one day out of the blue she was. She was doing everything just how Baby did it. Turns out the poor girl had begged Baby to tell her what to do to keep his attention on her. And boy was she a quick learner.

Lost in her head she didn’t realize all the movement going on around until screams hit her ears and she was picked up, thrown over Otis’s shoulder. He threw her into one of the empty rooms that only held a bed and a dresser. He pushed her onto the bed and held his knife to her throat.

“You move out of this room. You die. You scream or make a noise. You die. You do anything that’s not staying in this room and shutting your fucking mouth. You. Die.” He pulled her by her hair to lock eyes with her. His eyes were even more blood thirsty than usual. “Understand me, Princess?”

Her lip quivered, what was happening? She had never seen guest end like this. Yes they killed and took their cars and money but this felt different. He pulled her hair harder and pushed the knife deeper into her throat waiting her response.

“Yes, I’ll be good. Stay here and be quiet.” Her wide eyes glistened with tears threatening to fall from the pressure on her head from her pulled hair. He nodded and let her hair go, running his fingers through it for a moment.

“Good girl. If I haven’t come to get you by morning you can come find me okay?” She nodded again quickly. He grabbed her chin and pulled her into a kiss. “I love you Princess.”

He said it again! Twice in one day! She happily kissed him back and smiled wide at him, “I love you, too.” He brushed her hair out once more before leaving the room making sure the door locked behind them.

She didn’t even realized she had fallen asleep until she woke with a jump. Had it really been that long? After Otis had left she paced the room before she decide to explore the dresser a bit. In the top drawer was an old worn copy of some book she’d never heard of but from the picture on the cover it looked to be some cliché romance. She sat on the bed resting her back against the wall and started reading, having nothing better to do. She must have fallen asleep mid-read. She looked out the window. Sunshine. It was morning and Otis hadn’t come back for her. What if something happened? Was he hurt? Did those guest hurt him or Baby or Mama? She was even worried for Hugo. She leapt to her feet and bounded towards the door. Just as she was about to fiddle with the lock she heard the click of a key and the turn of the doorknob. She jumped back so the door wouldn’t hit her when it swung open.

On the other side of the door stood her Otis. Her sweet, loving, blood covered, Otis.

“Sorry I’m late Princess had to clean up someone else’s mess. But I got a surprise for you.” He smirked and took her hand. He led her back to the room they shared and covered her eyes to keep her surprise from her. Was this a real surprise? Like a present? “It ain’t much but we gotta start ya off with something easy, okay?” He removed his hands from her eyes and she blinked at the sudden light from the darkness. Once her eyes adjusted she saw the surprise. Tied to chairs and knocked out sat two of the guest. The man in glasses that Baby had sang to and the women she assumed was his girlfriend or wife.

Otis pulled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I have an idea for these two fuck ups and I need my pretty little Princess to help me. Gonna teach ya to be a real artist not just my muse.” He handed her one of his knives and took one in his own hand. “You get the girl shes more your size. Don’t fuck it up Princess.” He moved over to the man and bent down by his ankles, “All it takes is a clean up to the ankles.” He swiftly sliced the knife threw the mans skin causing him to pop his eyes open with a scream. His screaming then woke the woman. “Your turn Princess.”

She twisted the handle in her hands and looked at him nervously. “Come on Princess, it ain’t hard.” Somehow she only heard his voice. She knew the people were screaming and crying but she was focused on him. Tired of waiting he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the floor and held her smaller hand in his. “Like this.” With a flick their wrist the knife cut one of the woman’s ankles. “You do the next one.”

She took a breath and moved closer to the other unharmed ankle. Her eyes flickered to his for a moment before exhaling and cutting through the skin. She hit a vein just right and blood splattered on her face and chest. She stood up as Otis whistled at her.

“Damn didn’t think you could get any prettier but I was wrong. This is how you’re meant to look Princess.” He pulled her close and licked some of the blood off her face. “Let’s give the happy couple some alone time. Should be done by the time we come back.” He smirked and jammed his knife into the woman’s thigh. He looked at her than to the man and back to her. She got the message. She walked to the man and stood above him.

“Wait, wait, wait! I know you. You’re that girl who went missing last year. The millionaire’s stepdaughter. Just let us go and we can take you home to your family and away from these psychos.”

Otis growled and almost pounced on the man but she raised her hand to stop him. “This is my home. This is my family. This is all I need. You don’t fucking know me. You know my face and you know my name but you don’t know me. Only my family knows me. Only Otis knows me.” She screamed in his face so close it fogged his glasses before stabbing him the thigh twisting the blade a few times for extra hurt.

The man and the woman continued screaming and begging for their lives as Otis took her away. He took her to the bathroom and ran the shower. Peeling off her blood soaked clothes slowly before removing his own. He pulled her under the water and watched as it mixed with the blood on her face and ran down the drain. Wordlessly he titled her head back and let the water run through her hair.

All of this was so new. Never had they done this before. And if they had she was sure it would have just been about sex. But he was being gentle and soothing. She could his erection plan as day but decided if he wasn’t making this about sex she shouldn’t either. She hummed as he brushed through her wet hair getting all the blood out. Normally he would be smearing all over her. She always let him do it. She always let him do whatever made him happy. But as soon as he was done with her she would run to the shower as fast as she could to clean herself. But now he was cleaning it off her. Gentle rubbing his hands down her body in a non-sexual way. Once he was satisfied with how clean she was he moved their places and let the water trail over himself. All of this done in silence. Only the water running and their breathing could be heard. Finally he cut he water and stepped out leaving her standing in the shower.

“Feel better Princess?” He asked wrapping her in a towel that was honestly probably dirtier than them when they entered the shower.

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him wide eyed.

“Have another surprise for you while we wait for those fucks to finish up.” He walked her back to their room, “Get your clothes on. Whatever you want.” He said as he went to inspect the people in to the corner who’s yelling had turned to whimpers.

She dug through her clothes finally able to pick her own outfit. She quickly put on a soft lavender purple matching bra and panties then looked over to him.

“All your clothes. We’re going back down stairs.” Oh she really got to pick her own outfit. This never happened. She went back to drawers and dug again finding her blue jean shorts and a black shirt. She slipped them on and looked to him again. “That’s better Princess. Now down the stairs.” He gestured to the door and followed her down the staircase. “This way.” He pulled her outside and towards one of the sheds where they kept the extra clothes and other items from guest who never left.

He opened the door and pushed her inside. He lit a match and fired up a lamp hanging from the ceiling. She stood still as he rooted around looking for something. She thought about asking him if she could help him find whatever it was he was looking for but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak he turned to her box in hand. “Come here pretty girl.” He called her closer and held out the box to her. “A pretty princess needs a pretty jewel. Take whichever one you want.”

She looked inside the box and gasped. Inside were tens if not hundreds of shining rings. Some silver, some gold, some with diamonds, others with colored gems, and some that were just metal. She dug around looking for any she might like and took a few in hand. She went to try and size it to her right hand finger but he stopped her.

“Other hand Princess.”

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, “But that hands for a wedding band.”

“Just do it don’t fucking argue with me.” Hell for once in his damn life he was trying to be genuine and she had to run her mouth.

She nodded and moved to her other hand. She tried a few too small. A few too big. And a few she just didn’t like how they sat on her finger. Otis was starting to get impatient with her once again, always taking forever. He looked around in the box and found he liked and grabbed her hand sliding the band over her finger. She looked at her hand then to him and back at her hand again. The gem was a deep ruby red similar to his ever beloved blood and the band was the same silver as his knives. It was perfect. Just like her Otis was perfect.

“It’s perfect.” She whispered as if it would break if spoke too loud. “But why?”

“What can’t do a fucking nice thing for you?”

“No. No. Thank you. I just don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times. You are mine forever.” Why couldn’t she get that through her thick skull?

She fiddled with the ring on her finger, “I know. And I’m happy to be yours forever. But, but this feels like you wanna marry me or something. And I…”

“Well we ain’t having no big ole party and it ain’t gonna be legal. But married and forever are the same things,” he interrupted her.

She took a deep breath, she imagined he wouldn’t like what she was about to say and needed to muster up all her courage. “I know I get that. But married also means one and only forever. You are my one and only but am I yours? Married means no other girls.”

Otis put the box holding the rings down and grabbed her face in both hands making her look up at him.

“Princess, ain’t had anyone in my bed except you since I brought you in it. Knew you was something special. A man’s gotta settle down sometime. Get him a sexy little housewife. Hell maybe even knock you up have little brats running around. Mama and Baby would love that.” Sincere. He was being sincere and true and kind and all the things she didn’t even think Otis Driftwood knew what the definitions were.

Tears flowed down her cheeks flooding over his hands. “Really? You want a family? With me?”

“Fuck yeah I do Princess. Any woman that can slice an ankle that clean and not flinch when the blood hits her face is a woman I wanna keep.” He kissed her and rested his forehead against her, “Don’t mean I’m gonna be nicer. I will still cut your throat if you leave or do anything stupid. Still gonna pull you by your hair. And fuck you how I like whenever I like.” He grabbed her hair and yanked her to slide before sinking his teeth into her neck. There was the Otis she knew and, in a sick twisted way, loved. He pulled back and grinned at her with her blood running down his chin.

“Let’s go back and finish our art piece.” He led her back up the stairs and found their models ready to pose.

After working on the art piece for hours she was again covered in blood and guts and pieces of someone else’s flesh were stuck to her. Otis gave the piece a once over and turned to her, equally as messy as she was.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything more perfect. Besides you Princess.” He smirked at her and winked.

She didn’t know what game this was but she hoped they played it forever. All the sweet words he had been whispering in her ear, as he guided her hands showing her how to work on the art piece and use his many tools, were sounding more and more like a dream come true. He wanted to marry her, well he had ‘married’ her, and wanted a family with her. That was something she always dreamed of- being a mother and having a family. Even if her family was messed up and sick in the head. She was excited about the future.

“Let’s get you clean up and off to bed, Princess.” He kissed her forehead and took her to the shower to clean again. She truly felt like she was in a dream. Once they were clean he took her to bed and let her curl up on him like he did the day before.

“We‘ll take them to Spaulding tomorrow. I’ll bring you with me.” He promised her.

“Thank you. For everything you have done for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.” She looked up and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Me either, Princess. Me either.” He held her face and kissed her forehead. “Now sleep and don’t fucking wake up until the sun is shining.”

[ridiasfangirlings]

So one of my favorite Misaru tropes is Yata loving Fushimi’s knives. Whether it’s him gently removing, caressing, or playing with them I love it. So imagine if at first Fushimi can’t stand the idea of his knives being removed even by Misaki because he has never felt safe before and it’s a layer of protection that makes it easier to breathe. (He can’t even sleep without them on when he goes to Yata’s place.) at first Yata is kinda upset bc “he thinks I’ll hurt him”, but eventually he gets used to it.

In the beginning (when they are just friends) he starts to memorize where all the knives are whether it’s because whenever they are close he feels them or if he’s helping Fushimi remove his coat. And it’s starting to become second nature to Yata to silently check Fushimi’s knivesto make sure all of them are on him (his chest, back, legs, and boots; I also picture Fushimi has a certain amount of knives on him at all times) and generally treating them like second skin. And the best part is he doesn’t try to get Fushimi to remove them and Fushimi can’t stop thinking about how if this was Middleschool or Mikoto’s Yata he would probably pester him to remove them at every chance but this current one is just letting him be and adapting happily.

At some point Yata goes to one of S4 bonding activities and they both end up a bit drunk so Yata goes to stay in Fushimi’s dorm but when he tries to help remove Fushimi’s boots he tenses, so Yata explains that Fushimi really should sleep in his boots and removes them. But Fushimi just watches as Yata removes the knives from the boots and places them next to him or puts them in the extra pockets he has for when he finds more bc “You need all of them right”. And Yata is just gentle with them (not in a this could hurt me, but a these are too important to break way) and he keeps caressing the other knives hidden while smiling at him and Now Fushimi is just trembling and pulling Yata down to lie with him because only Misaki would treat his knives with such care and love fondness. Also Fushimi may have just realized he’s in love with Misaki lol.

As usual I’m sorry for the long ask and any wrong grammar

Why does this make me think of Yata treating Fushimi’s knives like a bunch of pet kittens or something XD I could see Yata having issues with the knives when they first start dating, not really understanding why Fushimi can’t just take them off and getting frustrated when he wants to touch Fushimi but has to watch out for all the knives first (also since it’s my ask I’ll just plug my fic I wrote about this way back if anyone wants additional thoughts in that direction). Yata feels like there’s no way he’d ever hurt Fushimi so he doesn’t see why Fushimi needs the knives around him but then imagine he notices just how much more comfortable it makes Fushimi in general to have them on, like not just when Yata is here but when he’s with anyone else or even alone. At some point Yata decides well, if this is some weird comfort thing for Saruhiko then so be it, rather than trying to make Fushimi change to suit Yata’s tastes he decides that it shouldn’t be so hard to get used to them instead.

Yata knows he’s not smart and he’s never been great at memorizing things like in school but he is determined to memorize where all the knives are (also imagine Fushimi hanging out at their apartment in just his shirt and knife harness and Yata is supposed to be memorizing knife locations but he keeps getting distracted by the sight of Fushimi in a sexy knife harness). It’s difficult but Yata slowly starts to figure it out and when they’re making out he knows just where to put his hands so as not to disturb a knife, and even when they get naked he can help Fushimi out of the harness in such a way that it’s easier for Fushimi to put it right back on after. Also imagine this improves their teamwork too, because Yata knows where Fushimi’s knives are and generally how many and can tell if Fushimi’s getting low by which knives he’s using, it also makes it easier for Yata to avoid getting in Fushimi’s way because he knows exactly what part of Fushimi’s body the knives are coming from. I also like the idea that Yata gets to help Fushimi with maintenance and care too, like he’ll help Fushimi put all the knives back into the harness afterward and help with cleaning the harness and making sure it doesn’t dig into Fushimi’s skin, just being all gentle and accepting that this is something that helps Fushimi’s mental health. 

One day the two of them get a little too drunk at some S4 bonding party and Yata takes Fushimi back to the dorm, Yata’s got a little stronger alcohol tolerance while Fushimi is all stumbling and complaining that he’s not drunk. Yata figures it might be best for Fushimi to get into bed and goes to remove his boots, but then Fushimi tenses and Yata’s like don’t worry I got this. He gently guides Fushimi to the bed and takes the knives out of Fushimi’s boots, setting them all in a row on Fushimi’s desk like this way you can put them back easy tomorrow, giving the knives this absent little pat like they’re something important. Fushimi is just staring at Yata with wide hazy eyes as Yata starts like patting him down, everything’s in place so he doesn’t end up accidentally stabbing himself while he sleeps, just being all comfortable around the fact that yeah, Fushimi has knives and that’s part of him so Yata loves those too. Suddenly Yata gets pinned to the bed by a kiss, Yata tries to like gently put him off because Fushimi’s so drunk but Fushimi sits there and clings to Yata quietly, feeling this rush of emotion that he can’t explain, and suddenly he feels safer than he has in ages.

[whirlwindimagines]

‘This world you live in is not a place for someone like you’

a/n: Not requested lol but inspired by this post I wrote. I needed to get this out of my system

Millions Knives x Reader

Most nights you wonder if you are even human anymore, how long had it been you don't know. Does it even matter? A part of you thinks no, it's better like this you’re a survivor and God did you survive everything they did to you all those painful nights, all the lights and the sounds You can't remember the why, or the when but you remember the pain.

Another part of you the deeper hidden part thinks it does matter that you were someone. That people cared about you, maybe you had a family? Maybe you weren't always a monster. The word brings a pain to your chest. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you stand leaving the bed. Finding no comfort alone, your mind briefly wandered to Knives. 

He didn't need sleep, and when you ask him to come to be he’d scoff at you and mock that painfully human part of you that needed another body to feel safe enough to sleep. On the better days he’d roll his eyes, but join you anyway. You didn't really know what he did when you eventually fell asleep if he stayed or just left. 

Knives is complicated, being with Knives is complicated, not that there is a real name to what the two of you even were. In his own way you know he cared; he could feel even if he pretends, he couldn't. You laugh softly rubbing your hands up in down your arms, suddenly cold.  

Walking the empty halls, you headed to a balcony. Opening the door into the cool night you shivered, you were already cold so what did it matter? Reaching the end of the balcony your hands grasp the railing looking over the city, it was funny for someone who hated humans so much he certainly was in the thick of it with the city. Again complicated. 

“What are you doing?” you clench the railing, “Wondering if the fall will kill me,” you answer as Knives joins your side, he doesn’t look at you. “It won't.” his cold gaze turns to you, and well it warms you a bit. You laugh the sound is loud in the silence of the night, and you don't even know why you do. The two of you fall back into silence, watching the city lights and you shiver. 

“Go back to bed.” an order, you roll your eyes, “Come with.” A request, turning to face him, you want him to, you really do. It's painful how much you yearn for him when he acts like nothing about you phases him. Maybe it's pathetic, maybe it even makes you a traitor but you care about him, a part of you knows it's deeper than that. But love? That’s simply too human for the both of you.

It must be one of his good days because he sighs, lending a hand out to you, a shiver passes through you but not because of the cold you take his hand, as he leads you back indoors. You grip his hand tightly afraid he’ll pull away, but he doesn’t and it makes your heart race. These are the moments you feel most human when you're with him how ironic. 

You reach your room, and he stops but you don’t let him change his mind it’s your turn to lead and you bring him into the room. Once your inside you squeeze his hand and then you let go. you have to let him make his own decisions when it comes to this, comfort. he's kind of like a cat push too much and you’ll be scratched, but leave the door open just a crack? He’ll come crawling in, not that you’d ever point that out to him. 

Turning your back to Knives, you settle in the bed and under the covers waiting and hoping he’ll stay. You hold your breath, nothing for a moment, and then a weight beside you. You smile softly and then school your features when you turn to face Knives, he's lying on his back looking up at the ceiling. “I don't understand why you enjoy this.” 

You ‘hum’ softly, moving slowly as if to not startle him you place your hand on his chest and then your head curling up beside him. You smile and close your eyes when he doesn’t make a move to leave, “I enjoy it because it's you.” you can hear him scoff, but you don't care. It's a half-truth for the most part, you do enjoy his company, but more importantly, he makes you feel safe. 

A hand wraps around you slowly, as if unsure you don't say anything as it settles on your hip. “You're a fool.” the words are cruel, but his tone is not. You fist the material of his suit, “Maybe.” You whisper you know you are. Because you are in love with him, and this will not end in your favor. 

But you don't think about that right now you pretend, that this is normal and that you are just someone laying in bed with the man you love who loves you too. You know when you wake up Knives won't be here, he’ll go off and do whatever he does when he's alone but you can pretend that he will be. You can even pretend he’ll wake you up with a kiss, his other hand shifts to brush your hair out of your face the gentle movement is so soothing but it only makes your heart ache.

[fire-or-clear]

"Rings on or off, baby?"

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

summary ~ riding with the winchesters isn't exactly a walk in the park, but you wouldn't give it up for anything, especially now that you've got john wrapped around your finger.

pairing ~ John Winchester x reader

warnings ~ significant age gap, very slight daddy kink, a bit suggestive, talk of weaponry and hunting

rating ~ T

this isn't much, just me trying to get back into writing using a prompt i saw a long time ago. it's been an age, and even when i wrote a whole lot more, i've only ever posted like two things on tumblr, so i really have no idea what i'm doing lol. please let me know what you think, and if the rating or warnings need to be changed(:

You take John’s hand as he helps you climb down from his truck, and you absently note the feeling of cold metal against your fingers. You hide a small smile at the reminder of this morning.

You and John wake up like you usually do, wrapped around each other. The sheets are bunched up at the foot of the bed, like normal. He always gets hot in the middle of the night, whereas you’re always cold, but having John’s overly warm body pressed against yours, head to toe, usually does the trick to keep you warm.

John presses a sleepy kiss to your lips, and the two of you get distracted for a few minutes, before John forces himself to climb out of bed with a groan. You chuckle and watch as he ambles into the bathroom to shower, and then you roll over and get comfortable in the warm spot he left behind. Perks of taking night showers, you get to sleep in while John wakes himself up with his morning showers.

You doze off, and you don’t know how long it’s been before you feel fingertips drag lightly down your spine. You hum sleepily and turn your head to face John. He’s crouched down beside the bed in just jeans, with a small smile on his face.

“Time to get up, baby.” He informs you. You pout and bury your face in the pillow. john chuckles and you hear him moving around, and you look up in time to see him tug a t shirt over his head. You watch as he pulls his usual jacket on, and you finally climb out of bed as he sits down on the edge to put on his boots. You walk over to your bag and pull on a pair of panties, and then you hunt around the room for your bra, which always disappears when John is the one to take it off of you. You find it draped over a chair, and you pull it on as well, and then you return to your bag and grab a pair of jeans. You tug them on, and then you grab the shirt John was wearing yesterday and tug that on as well. John smirks and pulls you down into his lap as you pass by. You wrap an arm around his neck and press a kiss to his jaw. He tangles his fingers in the shirt.

“You don’t have a clean one to wear?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Of course I do. But why would I do that when I could wear your shirt and smell like you all day?” You drawl. John presses a kiss to your throat, and you shiver as his stubble scrapes your skin.

“Now why would you want that?” He wonders.

“Cause I love the way you smell. Your cologne, your favorite whiskey, wood smoke, and something that’s just.. You. Makes me feel safe. It also makes me want the real thing.” You murmur, before tugging him into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you slide a hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair as he nips at your lower lip. You two get distracted, again, but this time you’re the one to pull away.

“Hmm, we got work to do. You gonna let me up?” You ask, looking down into his eyes. He smirks at you.

“You gonna ask nicely?” He retorts. You give him a shy little smile and lean in so your lips are brushing the edge of his ear.

“Please, Daddy.” You murmur sweetly. John groans and loosens his grip on your waist, and you climb off his lap. He smacks your ass when you turn to walk away, and you give a surprised yelp.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you just wait, sweetheart.” He drawls. You give him a wink as you sit down on the coffee table to tug on socks and your boots.

“Whaddaya think, rings or no rings today?” He asks, and you look up and see him turning one of them between his fingers. You finish lacing up you boots, and then walk over to where he’s standing. You grab your three favorite rings and slide them onto the correct fingers, pressing a kiss to each one.

“Rings. They look good on you, and I like the way they sound against your gun.” You answer. John chuckles and cups your cheek, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.

“Is that right? What makes you think I’ll be using a gun today?” He asks. You give him a little smirk.

“We’re in Texas, darlin’. You’re in my world now, and I’m telling you, you’ll find a use for that gun today, one way or another.” You answer, pressing a kiss to his thumb. He smiles and shakes his head.

“I’ll take your word for it. You wanna load the truck, or wake the boys?” He asks.

“I’ll take the boys, far be it from me to stop you from lifting heavy things where I can see.” You answer with a grin. John rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take you to the gym next time I go, then you can look all you want.” He retorts. You scoff.

“I like the gym, darlin, you’re the one who can’t be assed to set foot in one.” You remind him as you pull away and tug your jacket on.

“Why would I, I get enough of a workout while I hunt.” John grumbles. You laugh and shake your head.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you in a minute.” You tell him. He gives you a quick kiss, and then you head next door. You have a key, so you give the door a warning knock, and then you unlock it and step into the room Sam and Dean are sharing. You hear the shower running, and note that Sam must be awake. Dean, however, is still in bed, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. You head over and sit on the edge, pulling the blankets back a little and then pressing your ice cold fingertips to Dean’s bare back. He flinches and groans into his pillow.

“‘Go ‘way.” He mumbles. You laugh.

“Not gonna happen. Cmon, John is loading the truck and Sam is in the shower. We’re waiting on you, pretty boy.” You hum. Dean turns his head towards you with a sleepy glare.

“Not a pretty boy. Sam’s the pretty one.” He huffs. You press your lips together to keep from laughing.

“Sure darlin. Now get up, or I’m telling Sam that you said he can drive the impala today.” You reply. Dean’s glare intensifies, and then he sits up with a groan. The blankets pool at his waist, and he quickly grabs them and yanks them up to his neck.

“Why is it so cold in here?” He asks. You shrug.

“No idea. Did you mess with the thermostat last night?” You ask. Dean shakes his head.

“Sammy, did you turn down the temperature last night?” Dean says, and you turn and see Sam exit the bathroom. Thankfully he’s already dressed, otherwise he’d be blushing right now. You, Dean and John don’t give a shit how dressed or undressed you are around each other, Dean cause he’s just laidback that way, John because these are his sons and you're his lover, and yourself because you were in the army and it’s just skin. That’s not to say you'd like to be completely naked in front of your lovers sons, but if you're just wearing a towel, or if they catch you in a sports bra and spandex, you don’t really give a shit.

“No, I think it’s broken. I tried to adjust it before I showered, but it didn’t work.” Sam answers, rubbing through his hair with a towel. Dean starts cursing, and continues to curse as he jumps out of bed and stumbles over to his bag, yanking on clothes as quick as he can. You chuckle and turn to Sam.

“The impala already packed?” You ask. Sam nods.

“Yeah, I threw our bags in there before my shower. You and dad all set?” He asks, and you're silently thankful that it’s not weird for him to say that anymore. You get it though, you knew Sam and Dean before you knew John, and then there’s the fact that you and Sam are the same age and Dean is only 4 years older than you, and here you are, sleeping with their dad. So you get how it’s a little weird.

“Should be, he’s packing the truck now.” You answer. Sam nods and sits down to put on his shoes, and Dean does as well.

“Let us know when you’re ready to hit the road.” You tell them before you step outside the motel room. You pull your pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket and slide one out, along with the lighter in your jeans pocket. You light up and take a long drag, and lean against the wall. You turn and watch as John checks his weapons cache in the truck. Then you walk over and open the passenger door, and climb up and reach behind the bench seat. You grab your holsters and start strapping them on. You shrug off your jacket so you can pull on your shoulder holster that holds four daggers, and then pull your jacket on over it. Next, you tug your pant leg up and tuck two knives each into the compartments on the insides of your boots. You strap a hunting knife to your hip, and then climb down and walk around the truck to stand beside John. You flick the ash off the end of your cigarette, and watch as John straps on his preferred assortment of weapons, including, you note with a grin, his gun, hidden beneath his shirt and jacket at the small of his back. He catches you grinning, and he scoffs. He reaches out and pulls you close.

“It’s just in case.” He says. You nod.

“I know. You’ll need it.” You tell him matter of factly. He rolls his eyes and plucks the cigarette from your lips. And proceeds to take a puff and then drops the cigarette and stubs it out with his boot. You pout up at him.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You complain. He chuckles.

“Those aren’t very good for you.” He retorts, exhaling the smoke. You scoff.

“Well I know they aren’t very good for me, but darlin’, I’m not very good for me.” You reply. He chuckles and leans in close.

“No, but you leave that to me. I ever been bad to you?” He drawls. You bite your lip and tilt your head.

“Only when I ask for it.” You murmur. He chuckles lowly.

“What can I say. Sometimes you deserve it.” He tells you, lips brushing against your temple. You flush and bury your face in his chest, and he wraps his arms tight around you.

“Look at you, going all shy on me. Gonna have to get a room away from the boys tonight. I’m gonna make you scream.” He informs you. You glance up at him and see how dark his eyes are, and lick your lips.

“You promise?” You ask innocently.

“Yeah baby. I promise.” He rumbles, sliding a hand beneath your shirt and running it up and down your spine. You shiver as the cold metal of his rings grazes your skin.

“You alright?” You hear, and you look up and see that Sam and Dean are standing with you and John next to the truck. John and Sam are looking over something on the hood of the truck, and Dean is right beside you. You smile and nod at him.

“I’m fine. Just a little scatterbrained is all.” You tell him. He nods.

"You ready to show us how to hunt, the Texas way?" He asks. You chuckle.

"Sure, D. But are you ready, is the real question." You retort. He scoffs.

"How hard could it be." He grumbles, and you laugh and get ready for another day with your boys.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 289: Looks Like the Gang’s All Here

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “you guys don’t really need to know what’s gonna happen to Deku and Shouto right now” and cut away to Toga and Ochako before anyone could get a word in. Skeptic utilized the power of Freak Shounen Coincidence to magically zero in on Ochako and Tsuyu amongst the fleeing crowd. Toga was all “IS THAT OCHAKO” and immediately leaped down to fight them, ignoring Spinner’s heartfelt speeches about Villain Found Family because fight now, hug later!! Down in the streets of some unidentified crumbling city, Ochako was approached by a sweet old lady and was all “I better help this sweet old lady who is definitely not leading me into a trap”, which unfortunately turned out to be poor decision-making on her part. Anyway so now she and Toga are going to throw down. AND ALSO, P.S., BEST JEANIST IS STILL ALIVE, and that doesn’t really have anything to do with anything right now, but BY GOLLY I JUST HAD TO SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS.

Today on BnHA: Iida and Hadou are all “is it our turn yet”, and Horikoshi is all “yes”, and so the two of them finally burst onto the scene and are all “hello Shouto, Gigantomachia is on his way, btw do you need help” and so they all get ready to fight Tomura together. Meanwhile in Unnamed Ochako And Toga Fight Town, Toga is all “what’s up Ochako, oh is this the All Might doll Deku gave you, I guess you must like Deku as well, just like me, we truly are the same, btw I can use other people’s quirks now” before she vanishes in a flurry of knives and ambiguity, as mysteriously as she came. So that’s a thing that happened. The chapter ends with Gigantomachia and the League STOMPIN’ ONTO THE SCENE, JUST IN TIME FOR ENDEAVOR TO WAKE UP AND BE ALL “OHHHHH SHIT.” YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT, “OH SHIT.” Finally the pieces are in place for Dabi to reveal his true identity to Hadou and Iida, JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED.

before I start, thank you so much to everyone who sent birthday messages on Wednesday!! I had a good day; my quarantine impulse purchase guitar that I ordered months ago but had been backordered finally arrived, and so now I can do something productive with my time as I continue to while away these months in isolation! not to say that capslocking over fictional characters and their shounen escapades doesn’t also count as being productive lmao. anyways, my fingers hurt so typing is kind of a bitch right now, but I’m having fun still. IF KAMINARI CAN DO IT THEN SO CAN I

anyway so let’s see what mishaps my various catastrophe-prone children are getting up to this week

okay there are several things happening in this panel which I want to comment on

IIDA!!!

HADOU!!!

“some time after” jesus fucking christ though, how long have Deku and the rest actually been fighting?? like it’s absolutely absurd to imagine that they’ve been managing to hold off Tomura for more than a few minutes, and yet everything we’ve seen these last couple of chapters suggests that this is indeed the case. which is just pure insanity tbh. excuse me sir, but I have an emotionally maturing son, a homewrecking grandpa, and a sleep-deprived one-legged platonic husband who are all in DIRE NEED of medical attention just FYI

lastly, I direct your attention to these two cool cats in the background who are both riding on hover surfboards. living it up like it’s Back to the Future. why are there two of them. do they both just happen to have the exact same quirk. what are the odds. ARE THEY TWINS. I want to know everything about them dammit

anyway so Hadou is asking Iida why he’s tagging along, because unlike the others, he can’t fly and is thus vulnerable to Tomura’s attacks and such

well Hadou I’ll have you know that it his DUTY AS THE CLASS PRESIDENT to tag along and THAT’S WHY

oh shit you guys IIDA SAID “FUCK THE LAW”

“plus Bakugou-kun, whom I am not particularly close to, but nonetheless hold nothing personal against!” well uh, kind of a weird distinction to make there bro, but okay. listen everyone, it’s a tense situation; if Iida feels the need to clarify the ins and outs of his interpersonal relationships with each of the people he’s rescuing then please just respect that okay

anyways though have I mentioned how much I fucking love Iida Tenya though you guys. feels like I haven’t mentioned that enough. I LOVE HIM. there

FINALLY

AFTER THREE WHOLE WEEKS WE FINALLY CUT BACK. OH MY GOD. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG OF A TIME THAT IS TO BE HOLDING YOUR BREATH. [EXHALES]

is it bad that my immediate reaction to this page was A LOT OF LAUGHING, though. fkldlksh this entire situation is SO ABJECTLY TERRIBLE that if I were Shouto I would almost be fighting the urge to look around for a hidden camera at this point. ASHTON KUTCHER WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING HERE. OH THANK GOD, IT WAS ALL JUST A PRANK

anyway so uh. heh. how screwed are we at this point, exactly. oh and also, whose speech bubbles are these. who the fuck would look at this situation and these bleeding children and say “HA!” what kind of monster. just ignore that paragraph right before this one please

OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT

TOMURA I CANNOT BELIEVE I’M SAYING THIS, BUT PLEASE LISTEN TO AFO FOR ONCE AND JUST LEAVE

pretty please. we kind of have a situation here. not that I wouldn’t love to see what this icy flamey boi could do if push came to shove, but I also have had just about enough of watching children get maimed for today though

OH SHIT

THE TIMING OF THIS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE AT ALL BUT I DO NOT CARE!! THE CAVALRY HAS ARRIVED THANK GOD

“WHAT UP GUYS, WE BROUGHT YOU SOME TERRIBLE NEWS” FKLSHLKHLK

WELL GEE IIDA THANKS SO FUCKING MUCH!!

lmaoooo a wild Lida has been spotted what the fuck is this translation though

I don’t know which is better, the “Lida” (DO YOU EVEN READ THE SERIES BRO), or the “CHRIST” gkfhkg. CLASSIC LIDA

OH SNAP HADOU

sobbing at Manual cradling the still-warm corpse of Gran Torino like a tiny baby khlk;h. BUT ANYWAYS HADOU SAW HER TEACHER ALL BLOODIED UP AND IS READY TO THROW DOWN, YESSSSS, THE MY LADIES ACADEMIA ARC CONTINUES

(ETA: listen you guys, there were many things at the end of this chapter that brought me joy, but perhaps none more than the inclusion of Hadou in the final two page spread looking all serious alongside the Todorokis, as if she has any fucking clue at all wtf is going on slfkhlkhgghsl. what I wouldn’t give to see her and Deku and Iida all making frantic bewildered eye contact at each other throughout the next chapter lmao.)

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT DEKU

ARE YOU PROPPING YOURSELF UP WITH YOUR ARM THAT’S IN SPLINTERS, I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE YOU RIGHT NOW. SOMEONE PLEASE SLAP SOME SENSE INTO THIS CHILD. SIT YOUR ASS DOWN

LMAO TODO’S READY TO TAKE AFOMURA ON. THE SHARED HERO BRAINCELL HAS ALREADY EXPIRED. FUCK IT LET’S DO THIS

“true, I already watched him murder my dad, my boyfriend, my other boyfriend, my teacher, and dozens of other people, but gosh darn it, I just feel like the fifteenth time’s the charm you guys.” shit, I ain’t even mad. who’s up for yet another episode of Todoroki Shouto Attempts to Murder a Bitch

-- “TIME TO CUT AWAY!!” laughs Horikoshi as he gleefully dodges out of reach before I can punch him, that SON OF A --

goddammit. you’re just lucky that I’m invested in the girl power fight too

YESSSSS OCHAKO

DON’T BE SORRY FOR KICKING ASS! NEVER BE SORRY FOR KICKING ASS

damn, looks like she managed to touch Toga’s shirt but not Toga herself. both of them are so fast

now Toga is monologuing from the shadows

we’ve all been there, Toga. sometimes you see someone you really like and it’s just like, ahhhhhh gotta kill them am I right

lol I love Toga so much you guys, but I’m also kind of wincing in anticipation of whatever essays are gonna materialize out of the fandom this week explaining how hero society has failed her utterly and she is just a victim here. CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW SHE JUST WANTED FREEDOM TO BE HERSELF AND MURDER A BUNCH OF PEOPLE flhkklhl

OH SNAP SHE WENT AND TOLD HER THE THING!!

and it was fucking awesome and scary as shit, Ochako. like damn, still sends a chill up my spine just thinking about it

anyway so now Toga is continuing to explain that she can use the quirks of whoever she transforms into

and Ochako is kind of freaking out, which I don’t blame her for, since it’s probably really upsetting to hear that your stolen blood and quirk were used to murder a bunch of people. shit

so now she’s all “WTF WHY WOULD YOU EVEN TELL ME THAT”

??? was this somehow the wrong answer?

for fuck’s sake. Toga you literally came down here to ask her if she would be willing to kill you, and here she is telling you “I would never be happy about killing someone, that’s fucked up”, and you’re all “......”

like come on though, what else do you want her to say?? and why does Ochako look so shocked now

OOP

LMAO

THEIR FACES DKSLHFKG. TOGA NO THAT IS MEAN. and jesus christ Ochako it’s just a toy. I know it has Sentimental Value and shit but is this really the thing to be getting distracted about right now

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

JIN-KUN WHOM OCHAKO HAS NEVER FUCKING MET?? THAT JIN-KUN??!

OM NOM NOM

this entire confrontation makes absolutely zero sense to me you guys. just. Horikoshi was all, “this is the kind of stuff girls talk about when they’re battling to the death, right?” just, are you okay my dude

anyway so Toga has somehow deduced that Ochako got the doll from Deku, which means that she and Ochako are exactly alike in every way, and this is somehow an important plot point, and now they’re finally getting back to the fight lulz

OH SHIT

OCHAKO BOUT TO SLAP THE SHIT OUT TOGA WITH THIS BOOKCASE ON A STRING AND THIS LOUIS BAG OH FUCK

so now Toga’s all excited and she’s all “THERE’S SOMETHING I OUGHT TO TELL YOU, I’M NOT LEFT HANDED EITHER” oh snap

fuck, it almost feels like she’s trying to warn her. Ochako idk maybe you should run shit I do not like this ( ﾟдﾟ)

but of course she is not running, and she’s all “I’ll have you take responsibility for your actions”

HEY NOW

WHAT IS FUCKING HAPPENING, DID TOGA JUST FUCKING MURDER TSUYU, WHAT THE FUCK. I AM TERRIFIED, I DON’T WANT TO SCROLL DOWN, SHE THREW LIKE FOURTEEN KNIVES INTO THE DARKNESS, WHAT THE FUCK

OH

IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I MAY HAVE OVERREACTED

so did Toga just Swip a bunch of knives for no reason and then abscond, lol what. CAN ANYBODY PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE PURPOSE OF THAT ENTIRE SCENE WAS. ASIDE FROM GETTING TO SEE OCHAKO TRY AND YEET A BOOKCASE AT SOMEONE

fuck, she was crying??

DID MY GIRL TOGA JUST KILL AN OLD WOMAN, NAKEDLY LURE OCHAKO INTO A BUILDING, ANTAGONIZE HER INTO SAYING “I’LL MAKE YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR KILLING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE YOU FELT LIKE IT”, STEAL HER DOLL, GIVE HER DOLL BACK, TELL HER “OH SO YOU LIKE DEKU TOO HUH? BTW I CAN USE OTHER PEOPLE’S QUIRKS”, AND THEN RUN AWAY CRYING??? BRUH

-- OH SHIT, OH FUCK

[SIRENS BLARING WILDLY] [AUDIENCE LEAPING OUT OF THEIR SEATS] [T-SHIRT CANNONS BOOMING IN THE AIR] [VIKING WAR HORN SOUNDS IN THE DISTANCE] FUUUUUUUUUCK

well never the fuck mind about Ochako and Toga and WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT ALL WAS SUPPOSED TO BE, I guess, BECAUSE!! MACHIA MADNESS HAS ARRIVED. SPEARS SHALL BE SHAKEN!!! SHIELDS SHALL BE SPLINTERED!!

AND LOOK WHO WOKE UP FROM HIS NUMBER ONE HERO BEAUTY NAP RIGHT ON CUE, TOO!!! ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS... IIIIIIIIIIT’S TOUYA TIMEEEEEEEE

[ramzawrites]

Prince!Eret x Assassin!Reader - One Dance

GN

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: mention of death, talk of murder, very small mention of alchohol at the beginning

Series: No, a small fast drabble

Summary: You were sent to the local ball in order to get close to the heir Eret only that once you see the perfect chance for you to strike your emotions and feelings think this would be the best time to flare up.

Word count: 2119

Authors Note: I wrote this in the 2nd person which I’m not sure I like but I tried doing it anyway. I have been super busy with college but I wanted to write something for Eret since I love them a lot! Also this is really just a small drabble for fun so don’t expect too much lol

You sighed, taking another sip from you champagne glass. It was more so you fit in with every other snobby looking rich person in this ball room who where either dancing or chatting the world away than to enjoy an alcoholic drink.

Everyone was wearing these garish gowns with even more horrible looking masks. Thinking it would hide their identity and making a fun game out of this. Of course if you knew someone it wasn’t hard to recognize who was standing in front of you but if you didn’t it was apparently a charming game of who is who.

Though you weren’t here to play games. No, you had a job to do.

The good thing about this kind of ball is that it was actually not that hard to stand out. Everyone was wearing glittery, garish dresses and suits that the easiest way to stand out was by wearing something more toned down. All you had to wear was something that showed off the good parts of your body with simple garments.

That’s what you did. The only real choice you made when looking for what to wear was the color. At the end you settled for a simple wine red color. The mask you wore was covering both your eyes while also covering half your face.

There was no way anybody knew you there but it wasn’t about being recognized. The point of this mask was that you remained unknown. The Syndicate who you worked for made sure you were dressed properly for the event and wanted to give you at first a ceramic mask that would cover your whole face but you made the point then that this would probably pull a bit too much attention to yourself. The whole allure of this mask business was that you could see a hint of the real person.

This wasn’t your first job technically but this was your first job doing it alone and while being face to face with your victim. Honestly when it came to assassinations this was a classic and therefore should be treated as such, meaning people were expecting this.

Your goal? Prince Eret. The old king died a few weeks ago and he was about to be crowned the next ruler of the country but there were a lot of people who would love to see otherwise. Surprising? Not really. Especially seeing how the last king was a horrible ruler making sure to make the rich richer and bleeding the common folk dry. As far as people knew Eret wanted to do his best to undo this damage.

You sympathized with him, really, but a job is a job. To that you weren’t a big fan of any kind of government as well. You grew up with the Syndicate and got raised by them. You saw it all from the normal folk starving, getting beaten by the guards for not paying their protection fees all while the rich where eating cake and drinking the most expensive wines. So no, you held no love for this ruling system.

Everything was set. You had poison hidden in your clothes in case you get a chance to put it in his drink, got knives hidden and if worse came to worse you could use your hands. Now, of course to use all these things the damn prince had to appear but as it stood he was nowhere to be seen.

Angry you remembered how you told your mentor that honestly the best way would be for you to sneak in and kill him in his sleep but no this assassination had to be dramatic. To be fair this was the easiest way to get close to him if he would appear that is.

Repressing another angry sigh you decided to get some fresh air at the balcony. Give it five minutes and then return, if he is still not there you had to go back home. Your mentor forbid you to do anything else as it could jeopardize the whole assassination. Better to not attempt a failed murder and just regroup to find the next best opportunity.

It was already dark. The stars were up in the sky next to a full moon. A beautiful night for a sneak mission. Yeah, you were still not over that.

You took a good look over the view from the balcony. Right beneath it was a beautiful garden with all kinds of different flowers and hedges. Placed in such a way that it almost looked like a maze. In the middle was a beautiful fountain placed. Silently splashing in the night. It was then when you noticed someone sitting at the fountain, hunched over. Their back turned to you.

“That damned Prince.” You muttered. Of course you haven’t seen him in the ball room he has been hiding out there. This was perfect! He was alone!

Not trying to show your hurry you walked painfully slow back into the ball room, then out the room and snuck your way out into the garden. Before visiting the palace you had to learn the basic layout of the castle which honestly hammer back in how unnecessary this building was. So many rooms with no real use.

Outside, once you got close enough to the prince, you slowly pulled a dagger out that was hidden on your body. All you had to do was stab him. Either in the throat or heart. Easy enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Though as you stepped closer Eret tensed up. Did he hear you? You made sure to be as quiet as possible, there was no way.

“So, I’ve been found.” He spoke and turned around.

As he did you put both your arms behind your back, hiding the dagger in your hands. Trying to put a soft smile on your face to look more friendly “I am sorry, your highness. I saw you from up in the balcony and excuse my manner of speech but you seemed a bit miserable. Who would I be if I didn’t check up on the future ruler.”

Horrible.

Wait, did he roll his eyes?

“Oh, sure. I’m good. You can go back to the ball and enjoy it.”

This really wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would speak in this posh manner as all the others up in the ball room but he seemed almost normal. In fact everything seemed suspiciously normal. He wasn’t sitting up straight, his shoulders slouched, mask askew, clothing splotched by water. This prince was far removed from being what you considered princely.

To your horror you let out a chuckle. Where was your control all of the sudden? The prince eyed you with a curious gaze.

Embarrassed you tried to salvage this situation somehow “Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so-“

But Eret interrupted you “So undisciplined? Rude, even?” There was some bite to his words. Someone must have really laid in on him because of his behavior if that is how he reacted.

You shook your head “I would describe you as normal. Not snobbish like the others.”

For some reason he relaxed at that. A smile appeared on his face “Sorry if this offends you but you seem rather normal compared to the others as well if you see me like that.”

“Thank god for that.” You sighed.

The prince chuckled “Well, I’m glad to have met a somewhat kindred spirit then. I’m curious though. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N” you answered. Why did you say that? A blush spread on your face. Oh god, you are so screwed, oh no. Any name would have been fine but why did you blurt your real name out?

Eret took off his mask. Now you could see his genuine smile even more clearly “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Ye- Yeah.” You stammered as you tried to mirror his smile. You needed to get out of there, now.

This went downhill way too fast.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you felt rigid while also shaking out of nervousness, your cheeks were red and warm. Honestly you would love to just push your face into the fountain to get out of this shocked state.

The prince looked so genuine under the moonlight. You mentally slapped yourself as you noticed that he was looking pretty handsome under this light.

“Want to sit here with me a bit? From what you described you didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the ball as well.”

You nodded as you inched towards him and sat down. He returned to look back up at the stars. There were no words exchanged, yet it felt somewhat intimate. At least to you.

Gripping the dagger, still hidden behind your back, you waged your options. Just a stab. Right now. It would be easy. Just stab him!

But your body refused to move. What was all that grueling training for if you couldn’t kill your target? Hell, you have killed people before so why were you now having your troubles? Was it because this time your mentor wasn’t with you? Were you really so incompetent alone?

Then the music changed. You could still hear the music from the garden. It was quiet but still audible. The change of music pulled you back out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath you finally made your decision.

You slowly opened your hand, letting the dagger fall slowly with almost no sound into the water behind you. Something in you stopped you from doing the job, no sense in jeopardizing the whole operation by making a mistake. All you had to do was get out and deal with the consequences then.

Just as you wanted to get up Eret turned to you. A blush on his face as well “I’m not good with this but would you care for a dance?”

He was cute you thought in horror.

“A dance? Out here?”

Eret let out a nervous laugh that send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy “I mean, would you prefer dancing between the others? Of course if you don’t want to dance I understand. It’s not really something a lot of people like.”

Biting your lip you stood up “One dance. Then I have to go. It is getting late and my family is waiting for me.” Somewhat of a lie. You considered the Syndicate as your family but you weren’t blood related.

Eret’s nervous expression turned into a happy smile. He stood up and took your hand in his. Giving you a little wink as he led you away from the fountain so you both had more room to move in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

Together the two moved in tandem to the music. Giggling every time both of you made mistakes. Stepping on each other’s toes, almost crashing into one of the hedges or just making up your own dance moves that didn’t fit to the music that was softly playing in the background.

“Would it be rude of me to wish this dance never ended?” Eret asked. His voice soft with an emotion you didn’t dare to accept to be there.

You laughed “No, I too wish this would never end.” It was the truth.

“So tell me your full name or a way to get into contact with you if that is alright with you. I would love to stay in contact.”

That blush would never leave your face, huh.

It took a moment before you answered “I will get into contact with you, that is a promise alright?”

You then moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and as he sucked in a breath you let go of him. Moving away back inside, leaving the place in a relative hurry, all while Eret was still scrambling and trying to understand what just happened.

He tried to follow but you gave him a warning glare, stopping him in his tracks.

As you moved away from him he softly touched his check, returning back to the fountain. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Whatever just happened it was the first time in a long while that he truly felt happy. His heart beating rapidly as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. Staring down into the water, as his rush of emotions slowly calmed down again.

It was then as he saw something glinting in the water. Curious what it was he moved closer. Surprised he pushed his hand inside the water to get a dagger out. A small dagger, sharp as can be with a few intricate designs at the hilt.

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

The Demons Hidden in Sleep

@megatraven and @catlovingwitch and @aallotarenunelma

OKAY SO!! This little story is about Aphrodite and Elpis! Their background isn't completely mentioned because I still wanted to explain it in the story, but I reallly wanted to write this. I wanted to show another side of Aphrodite other than the supporting friend. And I also am working on one for Zeus, Hades, and Hera. Hera's still on the edge, but I might make one for her! Not sure yet but hope you enjoy!! I like feedback >:). Tell me about the emotions lol.

Also, there's some proofreading, but not to much, so sorry if something is wrong!

.

.

A divine being's days would pass in a blur. It would never make any of them blink twice. There was never any reason to think about passing days or feel regret when you're immortal. However, there were some divine beings who had days that felt agonizing.

Dear Aphrodite was one of them.

She loved living, seeing her friends on Olympus, and loved watching some of the humans down below, but this certain day made her feel weak. It made her feel like everything was crashing down around her, even if it was meant to be a normal day. It was supposed to be normal and just another day, but this day was an anniversary of a tragic accident. One she would never forget it. She remembered it every day, but today was the hardest.

It was a curse to remember it, but also a blessing. She would never ask to forget the accident, to never forget the person. She was grateful for this pain, yet tired of it. Yet she knew she would bear with it, she would hold onto it with her life, and she would never forget.

Never forget.

"That's what I promised you," she whispered to herself.

It was late in the night and many were asleep, but Aphrodite couldn't bring herself to. She was in her bed, wearing her nightwear, and doing her best to sleep. However, the nights embrace would not take her. She tossed and turned, but nothing worked. When a few hours passed, she knew it was useless.

She sighed and got up. "I might as well just stay awake for awhile," she said with a small laugh. She put on a red robe and walked to the balcony that was near her bed. She opened the door and let out a deep breath when she felt the cool air against her skin. She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm herself, but her head soon forgot about the cold.

She walked to the railing and looked out into Olympus. She saw many other Olympians homes, the beautiful sights of her domain, and the gorgeous night sky. She looked up at it and smiled. "You would love this night, Elpis," she said to no one. Her voice was soft with pain. "The stars are shining so bright tonight. It's something you always loved, wasn't it?" Her eyes traced the stars and she found herself lost in them.

"I would practically drag you to see them, wouldn't I?" A voice said beside her.

Aphrodite gasped and looked to her side to see Elpis. She looked like she did the last time she saw her, and it made her heart ache. She sighed and looked back out into Olympus with a small smile. "Yeah, you would. I didn't appreciate them like I do now," she said with regret.

"They are beautiful. I always hoped that you'd see that," Elpis said with her voice steady and comforting, unlike Aphrodite's.

Aphrodite nodded and held back her tears. "I do now, Elpis. I see many things I didn't see before," she admitted. Her voice was slowly going wavy.

Elpis let out a hum. "What kind of things?" Her tone was curious just like it always was.

"I've learned that the night sky is beautiful when you really look at it. All the stars coming together. I learned that the moon looks beautiful at night, too."

"What else did you learn long ago when I died?" Her voice no longer was sweet and kind, it was now monotone.

Aphrodite squeezed the railing against her hands and bit her lip. "I learned what it truly meant to love."

"You learned what it felt like to lose something, didn't you? You learned the burden but blessing of what love truly is." Elpis's voice was the same, but the words were harsh and felt like knives in Aphrodite's heart.

To make it worse was the fact that it was true. She always believed love was sweet, amazing, and a blessing. She never felt any other thing, but now she understood that every divine being learns their place and what it truly means to be them. She lost Elpis, her dear friend, someone she held so close to her heart, and she learned the other side of love. She felt the heartache, the guilt, the loneliness, the fear, and all the darkness that hid in the meaning of Love. She learned that loving was something beautiful yet terrifying.

She licked her lips and did her best to speak past the knot in her throat. "Yes, I did. I still feel it everyday."

Elpis laughed. "Good. You should. You didn't pay attention, none of you did, and look what happened." Her voice was lighter again and had a playful tone, even if the words were far from it. "You remember the incident, don't you? Not just the day or the time, but what happened. You remember it, right?"

Aphrodite let out a small whimper at her words, but didn't respond.

"You remember finding me, don't you? You remember me wandering out of Olympus, not even saying goodbye, and then not coming back?"

Aphrodite slammed her fists against the railing. "YES!" She yelled out. Her voice was broken from the pain and she couldn't stop the tears anymore. They ran down her face and she didn't try to stop them. "I remember everything, Elpis," she said through her soft cries. "I remember losing you, I remember seeing everyone lose you."

"Yes, you lost me, and you've never found out what truly happened, have you?"

"No, I haven't." Aphrodite wiped her tears away, doing her best to put herself back together.

"Wouldn't you like to? Wouldn't you like to put demons like me to rest?"

"You're already resting."

"Am I? Or am I just hiding?" She played with Aphrodite like a kid would play with their food. Messy.

That question made Aphrodite pause. She never considered that idea. The possibility that Elpis was hiding from Olympus, hiding from her friends because of how they failed her. She let out a shuttering breath. "Would she really hide from us?"

"Hmm, who knows. I am a complicated woman."

"You're not her," Aphrodite said with venom. She could take many things, but could not take the mere statement of a monster being her dear friend. A monster of her own mind.

"Yes, that's right. I'm not her. I'm just your own little demons hiding inside of you. But look at me."

Aphrodite hesitated for a moment, but she deep down wanted to look. She knew it would be painful, but she always would look. She turned her head slowly and looked to her side to see Elpis. It looked just like her, all the way down to the small freckles on her cheeks.

Aphrodite looked away when 'Elpis' laughed. She closed her eyes as her head hanged down. "But you will never be her."

"No. I never will be. You can imagine her, but you can't be her, or even make her in your own mind. Isn't that a funny thing about death? You remember the person, but slowly they disappear. If you saw her, you'd know it was her, but you can't see her in your mind. You can't imagine her smile, can't see the way her hair looked, you can't see the way she looked at you, and you can't see the way she really existed."

Aphrodite's hands regained their hold on the railing. "I can still see her. I can still hear her. You're here, aren't you? You're from me. If I couldn't still see her or hear her, then you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, that's right! I can't come and see you without you! Without your guilt, we wouldn't be here. But I'm here to always remind you of that guilt and to pull those painful memories back to the surface." Her voice was soft, but her words were like poison.

"Yes," Aphrodite said firmly. She tried to stop the conversation, tried to send the figure away, but it didn't work. It still stood there, taking the form of someone she loved.

However, after a few moments of silence, she felt a hand gently touch her shoulder. It didn't feel cold like it should've, it felt warm, and she felt peace for a moment. She closed her eyes and basked in it.

"Wait for me," the figure said. However, it didn't sound fake anymore. It didn't sound forced and it didn't make her afraid.

Aphrodite opened her eyes and turned to her side, hand reached out ready to hold her friends cheek, but when she looked, she was gone. Her hand met nothing but cold air. She closed her eyes and felt the pain of loneliness go through her again.

"Elpis," she whispered out.

She gasped and opened her eyes to see the ceiling of her room. It was all a nightmare. A nightmare full of the demons that haunted her, the ones always waiting for her in the darkness of sleep.

She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, those tears fell down her cheeks again and they felt real this time. She could really feel them, and she could really feel the pain in her heart.

"I'll wait for you, Elpis. I always will," she promised. She didn't know if she would hear her or even know she was thinking of her, but she still promised.

She would at least keep this one promise.

.

.

OKAY SO!!! I kinda like this!! I kept thinking of this idea, but it was more wholesome and sad. But like always my mind went down a different road. It didn't make sense for a spirit to visit her, so I didn't turn it into a ghost. I turned it into a nightmare >:). I hope you like it and feedback is always appreciated! I'd like to know how my writing is going or improving! But yeah that's it!

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 25- Checkmate

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Captured by Dolios, it’s up to TFC to decide who lives, who dies, and who gets to walk away from the game Dolios plays with them. 

Chapter idea credit to @whumpster-dumpster

_____________________________________________

“How about a game of chess, guildmaster?” Dolios waves the hermits into the antechamber of the prison. The death dungeons Galena warned them of. TFC is pushed forward, standing before and alone from his friends. He stumbles and turns, head spinning from the sleep he was awoken from as he  looks at them all. Helmets cover the faces of the guards standing behind each hermit, but he can clearly see the knives at their throats. Every single one, a hair’s breadth from death. Some are stoic, like Doc. Unafraid and unblinking to the cold blade. Others are nearly collapsing to their knees- if doing so didn’t mean being cut by the knife. 

TFC turns back, a fierce growl rising from his throat “What is this about?” 

“I’m trying to be civil, can’t you see?” Dolios sweeps his purple robes to the side, revealing a table and two chairs. Atop the table, crystal and obsidian chess pieces glitter in the torchlight. “I’m letting you decide your team's fate. You see, each piece is a member of your illegal guild. On both sides. Each one that’s captured is eventual doom. Play my game, and decide the fate of your beloved friends. Who is more important, who will live? Who is sacrificed for the good of the cause?” 

“What kind of sick game-!” Grian claws his way out of his captor’s grip, biting down on the gloved hand before the masked man regains control over the spitfire. 

“And what happens when I win?” TFC puts a hand on his waist and raises a silvery eyebrow. 

“You won’t, but just to ease your fears, when you win your friends will get to live. It won’t be a nice time living, but they’ll be alive.” Dolios chuckles. “If you lose, those who are captured are killed and become another husk to add to my army. The rest may leave, in fact. But trust me- I won’t leave anyone alive. I play to dominate.” 

“What if I just don’t play?” TFC looks at the chess pieces. He picks up a knight, turning it over. Scrawled on the bottom of the crystal white horse, he can see Wels’s name. One piece, but one real life in this game of strategy. He has to be smarter than Dolios. 

“Then we can just make this fast and kill them all right now. I’m giving you the chance to free some, or all! Of your friends.” Dolios pulls out a chair and motions to it, brushing the cushioned velvet flat. “Sit, guildmaster. Let’s play a game. Show me your true worth as a champion guild.” 

Reluctantly, he does. He has no choice. This is the only way he can ensure some sort of life for his friends. But at the expense of others. As soon as he pulls his chair in, a blast of air and magic reverberates from the chess board. He winces, his hair blowing back and gripping the chair for support. When TFC reopens his eyes, the prison chamber has changed. 

Dolios and him are floating above the ground. Just beneath them, a massive chess board has appeared. The guards are gone, and on each checkered color stands a hermit. Only a few pieces are actual stone. Grian opens his wings, attempting to fly free from his place as bishop. But as soon as he takes off from the ground, his eyes widen and pain laces across his face. He crashes to the stone, black lightning shooting up his skin. Iskall and others step forward, before hesitating. They’re chess pieces now. Pawns. They can only move when the player moves them. Dolios looks down, chuckling. “He’s quite the wild child. Completely different from the last angel I quarreled with.” 

“Why are you doing this?” TFC hisses. “This isn’t fair!” 

“Since when did things ever become fair, guildmaster? You’re already playing with their lives by challenging me. Now you can see how your own mistakes led you here.” Dolios intertwines his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. He leans his chin on his hands, a coy smile making his brown beard scratch at his skin. “I’ll let you make the first move, TFC.” 

The guildmaster looks across his chess board, as well as below him. It’s not just his pieces that are hermits, that are his friends. Dolios has some as well. Standing deathly still, waiting for the first move to be taken. TFC closes his eyes, thinking. He needs to be smart, to be a better strategist than the magistrate of Lairyon. This isn’t just a game. This is beyond what happens at the table before him. He needs to think of the repercussions each move will make. He has to make the least bloody moves as possible. Save as many of his friend’s lives as possible. 

“You promise no harm will come to my friends that survive?” TFC’s eyes open, realizing what he has to do. Without hesitation, TFC picks up a pawn, directly in front of Grian. It’s Mumbo. 

“I promise, on my word as the magistrate of Lairyon. May the ancient ones strike me down themselves.” TFC sets the pawn two spaces forward. Below him, he hears Mumbo’s yelp, followed by a cry of pain and feet scrabbling forward. When the crystal mage looks up, Dolios is grinning. “So the game begins.” 

He shoves his own pawn forward, moving exactly as TFC wants him to. The one directly in front of the king- of Dolios himself. TFC looks down, seeing Ren shuffle forward. He’s missing a sandal, only one flopping against the cold marble chess board beneath him. Two moves in front of him and to the left is Mumbo, shaking in his boots. 

TFC moves a second pawn- Scar. “You have my friends marked wrong. None of them are pawns. They’re all stronger than you could ever hope to be.” Wels is exposed, Scar standing beside Mumbo. 

“Tell that to this- checkmate.” TFC straightens his back, staring directly at Dolios as the magistrate shoves his queen diagonally. It’s not linked to any hermit, so a stone statue moves into the corner of the board. Turning and facing the white king. Capturing TFC. “You stupid mining moron! You lost in two moves!” Dolios cheers, his chair knocking backwards as he pumps his fist to the air and stands. “I didn’t even lose a single damned piece!” 

“Neither did I.” TFC whispers. “Now let my friends go.” 

Dolios stills, freezing mid celebration. His head turns, looking to TFC. He can see the magistrate slowly piece it all together, and the moment he realizes what’s happened. Elation breaks away in seething anger. A rage so bright and hot TFC swears he can feel it from his chair. “You tricked me!” 

“No, I played your game.” TFC’s voice is calm, collected. “You just happened to win. What was it you said before… you play to dominate? And dominate you did. Shouldn’t a good leader find a way to win without bloodshed?” 

Dolios waves his hand, a black magic circle appearing. A reverberating sonic wave shoves TFC out of his chair, throwing chess pieces all around him. Floating above his friends, he can hear them gasp. Only able to watch. Unable to move, to help their guildmaster. Their friend. Doc reaches out, but the black veins quickly reach back towards him. Towards his heart. TFC winces, sitting up. “You swore on your seat to let them go if I lost! If you go back on your word, everyone will know!” 

“Oh, I don’t plan on going back on my words.” Dolios snaps his fingers, and the hermits warp back to reality. The chamber is it’s old dull hall, torches and stone bricks. Hermits collapse together, checking one another for wounds sustained while apart. Grasping to stay together, to piece what happened between their last memory and now. Most only remember the capitol hall, then being woken up by the masked guards in individual cells.

 Dolios approaches TFC, setting his grey leather boot on the older man’s chest. Pressing his gilded heels harsh against his ribs. “But you still lost, you were captured. And all the pain your friends avoided? I’m going to do it tenfold to you!” 

A black ball of lightning grows as Dolios snarls, hand winding back and aiming directly for TFC. His eyes are wild, unhinged and untethered to reality. TFC raises his hand, a weak attempt to stop the growing dark magic before him. 

“Oh no you don’t!” X’s voice is sure, loud and reverberating off the stone walls. Unhindered by his mask. A snap follows soon after, and the dark lightning is dragged into nothingness. Into the void as X’s black hole grows. It threatened to eat up Dolios then and there, had he not taken an alarmed step back. 

“How? You shouldn’t be able to do that! You’re weak! My sleep spell should’ve...” Dolios turns, staring down the other hermits. Not noticing that Cub was hidden behind the others, or that TFC was no longer at his feet. 

“Nah, I’d say we’re pretty strong. Especially together.” X shrugs, and lets his black hole explode in a miniature big bang. 

With Dolios distracted, the crew makes their escape. Wels casts a shield and speed buffs, one hand raised to protect the retreat. Etho disappears down the hall, bouncing through shadows and silently taking out the guards ahead. At the top of the stairs, Mumbo hacks his way into the redstone powered door. Focusing all of his strength into forcing it open. Stress releases a sheet of ice before them, Jevin wraps everyone together into a bundle of bodies, and Impulse takes up a position next to Wels and his shield. Bracing against his friends, he casts his magic. Short spurts of explosions erupt from his hands, jetting the guild down the hall. 

Etho appears above the group from an arching shadow, grabbing Doc’s hand and joining them as they careen through the halls of the capitol building. Zipping past guards and wizards before anyone can even realize what they’ve seen, like a roller coaster ride. They don’t stop until they’ve burst out the back doors. Stress still doesn’t stop making a highway of ice, not until they’re well beyond the city limits, skating out into the open marshes that surround Milliara. 

Only then does the crew stop, breathing heavily and taking a moment to realize what just happened. And once they come to the same conclusion- they drown TFC in hugs. 

--------------------------------------------

“Sir… they escaped. Again.” Apatia runs up, his breath heavy as his chest rises and falls. “They’re well beyond the walls. Should we send the Arcane guard after them?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone to question why we’re chasing after our champions. Erase all memories to anyone that saw their escape.” Dolios growls, rubbing his hand. Feeling the void still against his skin, trying to tear it apart. 

“But what about the illegal guild? They know-” 

Dolios turns away from the guildmaster, forcing the redstone door closed. Hiding the dungeons beneath the capitol building. “They are not our main concern. Let them squirm, let them think they’ve won. I have more important things to deal with. I have more power to gain.” 

Dolios looks down as something rattles against the floor. He stoops low, picking up the black pawn. It’s chipped, the onyx stone heavy in his hand. The Order of Hermits have captured this pawn, but he’s just setting the stage. Playing the whole field. “Check.”

[abused-sides]

Something To Be A Part Of [Whumptober 2020]

    Prompt: No. 29: I Think I Need A Doctor [Reluctant Bedrest] 

    Synopsis: Janus and Virgil clear up some things. 

    Trigger warnings: Cults, gaslighting/manipulation, restraints, kidnapping, non-con, humiliation, treating people like property, blood, knives, violence/beatings, a person in a cage, guns, body horror/gore, reference to murder/hate crimes/child death/minor character death, vomiting, non-consensual drugging, burn scar mentions and brief descriptions, off-screen dumpster diving, major characters talking about potentially dying (but I don’t write major character death so no worries there), branding/burning, nonconsensual body-modification, murder threat, some gross bodily fluids, blackmail, vomit eating threat, domestic and child abuse mention/implication, toxic masculinity mentioned and preyed on, survivor’s guilt, implied suicidal thoughts past and present, chronic back pain, pretty detailed description of an allergic reaction (if you have food allergies it could potentially trigger a psuedo-reaction), being lured into a trap, I Swear That Logan Is A Good Boy (like almost-unsympathetic logan), murder threat, arguing, abandonment issues, let me know if I missed anything 

    Word count: 1128

    A/N: I’m gonna eat and then work on 30! Sorry this took literally all day lol, I was asleep. Almost done :D Cheer me on please lmao I know I can do this!!!! 

October 24th. 4:22 am. 

As soon as the four got to the rest stop, Patton and Roman ran out. 

Remus grunted as Roman threw himself into Remus’ arms. Remus held him tightly as Roman burst into tears. 

“You changed your mind?” Roman managed. 

Remus nodded weakly. “Yeah. I changed my mind.” 

Patton pulled Janus into his arms, only loosening when Janus winced. Patton pulled back with wet eyes to cup Janus’ face. He took in all of Janus’ modifications in horror. 

Janus forced a smile. “I’m okay.” 

He hesitated. His thumb ran over one of the makeshift scales, a healed burn. “Someone took care of you pretty well.”

Janus laughed a little. “Yeah. Remus.”

Patton kissed his forehead and moved on to Logan, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the forehead as well. His eyes widened when he saw Virgil, still only covered in Remus’ jacket. He looked to Janus, in his boxers, and shook his head. 

“God, you guys must be freezing— Come on, we brought some clothes from the house. And you all need to lay down.” 

Everyone but Remus grimaced at the thought of laying down, but they followed him into one of the old buildings. They had a few candles set up, giving a faint glow and a bit of warmth. A huge mound of blankets and pillows were pushed up against the wall, carefully between the sinks and the stalls. 

“We know it’s not great-” Roman started, and Remus fell face-first into the blankets. 

Janus, Virgil, and Logan quickly followed. Virgil and Janus snuggled up to Remus’ sides, Logan coming to spoon Janus. Roman grinned and jumped in, shimmying up behind Virgil and feeling for Remus’ hand. 

Patton dug around in one of the backpacks and pulled out a few packages of food, clearly smuggled from a gas station. He crawled into the blankets and dropped something in everyone’s lap. 

“Cuddle while you eat,” he demanded. “You all look so horrible, I’m so worried!” 

Logan rolled over to hug Patton. “We won’t say no to food, but we’re fine. At least, I’m fine. I won’t speak for the rest.”

“We are fine,” Janus promised quietly. He pulled open his bag of chips and held it out to Virgil, who took a couple. “We’re just ready to get out of here. How’s transportation?” 

“We have a car,” Roman said. “We’ve done a good job at keeping it hidden, I think. We can go as soon as you guys are well enough.”

“We’re well enough,” Virgil mumbled. “We should get going.” 

Patton watched him sadly. “I… I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Virgil,” Janus quickly said. “His name is Virgil.” 

“Virgil, we’re well hidden.” Roman squeezed his arm. “If we get out on the road with everyone half-full, they’re going to find us again. We should stay put.”

He sighed, but gave in. After they ate, they fell asleep. When Janus woke up, Virgil was tucked to his side, the others missing but their voices carrying in from outside. 

Janus pulled him closer and nuzzled into Virgil’s hair. Virgil hummed. 

“Feeling okay?” Virgil mumbled. 

“As well as I can be.” 

“Good.” 

Virgil rolled over so they were chest-to-chest, looking up at Janus. “You survived that twice?”

Janus hesitated. He brushed Virgil’s bangs back. “Not really. It wasn’t like that the first time. We were closer to Remus’ position.” 

“How’d you know you had to leave?” 

Janus thought for a moment, biting his lip. “His words were the same. I wasn’t always in chains, but… There was no question.”

Virgil wet his lips. He folded his arms over Janus’ chest, laid over his side and left leg, staring up at him cutely. “Can I ask what happened to you?”

Janus swallowed and leaned his head back. He stared at the grimy, spider web-covered ceiling, hands trembling. “I, uh… I was sixteen when my house burned down. Stupid coincidence— Electric shortage, probably. Middle of the night. Parents got me out, but they didn’t make it. I was put in foster care, never adopted. Bates found me when I was… Nineteen, I believe. I don’t know how to say it. He saw how angry I was, said all the right things, brought me to his ‘family…’” 

Janus laughed a little. “I knew what it was. I didn’t admit it, but I knew.” He sighed. “I wanted it. Something… Strong, something to be a part of. I guess I didn’t realize I wasn’t the only one who would get hurt.”

He couldn’t look at Virgil. His face flushed red, shame curling deep in his gut. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Janus’ gaze snapped to Virgil, eyes wide. “What?”

Virgil blushed. “I just… I don’t know, I… I don’t think I would have made it without you. I- I really admire you, you know? You were so strong the whole time, and always reminded me that it was possible to escape, and- and even when we were separated, I just… I don’t know, thought of you.” He pursed his lips and said quietly, “It helped.” 

Janus leaned down and kissed him softly. Virgil gasped a little, then pressed closer. Janus ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, Virgil’s hands rested on Janus’ neck. 

Virgil sighed happily and rested his head on Janus’ chest. “If I wasn’t so exhausted, I could do that for hours.”

Janus smiled. “We’ll have time to catch up. Is your back feeling okay?”

He frowned. “How’d you know?”

“You’re a little loud, in your sleep. You were scaring me.” Janus rubbed his hands down Virgil’s back. His muscles were pulled taut, spine full of cricks. Virgil flinched as Janus massaged, then slowly eased. “How often did he keep you in the cage?”

Virgil’s eyes fluttered shut, almost purring. “Pretty much all the time… Except when he was… You know.”

Janus kissed his head. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

“I know. If I’m in this bed for much longer, though, I’ll scream.” 

Janus gently sat up. He hooked an arm under Virgil’s knees, the other supporting his back, and stood up with him. 

Virgil let out a surprised laugh. “I can walk, Jane.” 

Janus brought him outside, and everyone looked back in surprise. Remus, Roman, Logan, and Patton were gathered around a fire pit, just embers. They were wrapped in blankets and sat on the ground. 

“What are you guys doing out of bed?” Patton cried. 

“We’re losing it,” Janus laughed and set Virgil down. “We spent all month on our asses.”

Everyone looked around guiltily. 

“You’re right,” Roman sighed. “Come on, come eat. Lo and I found some food.”

Virgil and Janus came closer, Remus pulling them close with a kiss to each cheek. Patton passed out food and they settled together, finally in one place. 

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 26: Death and Dreams

This was a fun one! Please forgive me for the angst at the beginning lol

I spent some time this week outlining the rest of the fic, and I found out that we are exactly two thirds of the way through what I have planned! Right now, I think we are going to end up with 38 or 39 chapters, so ive got at least twelve more to go. Crazy to think that there's still so much left in this story to tell!

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan sat up quickly, a gasp already trapped in his throat. It was early morning, and the small window was white with frozen mist, preventing him from seeing much of the fortress’ surroundings. Regardless, he could tell that dawn was still far off – Mala’s golden light distracted by the waking of far off lands – and neglecting theirs.

Rowan rubbed at his eyes, seeking a way to wipe away the images that still danced behind his lids. He had been ripped from sleep by a dream, by the same dream that had been torturing him all week.

A nightmare that was not a vision, but a memory. A memory of the night he had spent two centuries trying to forget, and now was running like a cold river through his mind, relentless and inescapable:

The wind was reluctant beneath his wing feathers, tossing and tumbling and chafing against his magic’s inescapable pull. It was cold, bitingly cold. But Rowan didn’t feel it, not through his already icy chest. Frozen not with cold, but with fear. With panic.

The familiar land of home teased at the edges of his vision, but the picturesque mountain vista was distorted, marred by black clouds and the smell of smoke. The ice coating Rowan’s heart began to crack, shattering glass exploding in his torso. Piercing and slicing as it went.

Rowan dove, his wings straining, his breaths sharp in his lungs as he rounded a corner and their hilltop rose before his eyes. And then his heart dropped completely out of his chest.

Their home was gone.

Destroyed. Eradicated. Burnt to dust and ashes.

Nothing was left. Not the cottage, nor the stables or pens. Their animals were slaughtered and left in the snow to rot. And the garden, Lyria’s precious, treasured blooms, had been trampled into the earth. Already withering.

The surrounding trees were alight with a forest fire that could have been burning for hours. Days, even. The ground was dusted with snow, but the thin coating hadn’t proved a hindrance to the flames that danced from branch to branch, wild and harsh and utterly indifferent.

Rowan’s feet pounded into the earth as he approached the ground, shifting in less than a second. And he was running.

Twigs snapped over his skin, ripping into his face. Beads of blood dripped down his cheeks, replacing the tears that could not come. One moment he was running, and the next, he was home.

Their cottage was a pile of ash and burnt wood. A pyre. But Rowan ran for it anyways, his hands digging into the remains desperately, ignoring the heat of the still-burning embers. Ignoring the truth that was staring him baldly in the face: nothing that had been in the cottage when it burned would have survived.

All of a sudden, Rowan collapsed. His knees gave way and he was sitting in the dirt. Sitting in the grave of his only home.

Her name bubbled up through him, burning and itching as it went. But his throat tightened, trapping the cry in his chest where is writhed and twitched. Pressing against his heart and lungs and throat until they ached.

It felt as though hours passed, but it must have only been seconds. Drops of blood appeared before his eyes, and it was a while before he realized that they were real, before he recognized their smell.

His eyes slowly began to focus through the haze, and they traced the pools of red over the ground, through the trampled snow, up to the crest of the hill and –

Rowan tore up the hill, a desperate hope clawing its way up his throat. His hands reached for the body curled atop the cliff face, his fingers trembling. But then her scent reached him. Her cold, empty, lifeless scent.

And Rowan felt his very essence leaking away, melting into the snow as what was left of the mating bond guttered, and fizzled out.

He was alone.

Rowan reached out tentatively, his fingers seeking to cradle Lyria’s face, to stroke her hair, one last time.

But then a frown crossed over his mouth, his face tightening. Lyria’s hair was brown, not gold. And her scent was a mixture of silk and ferns and rabbits’ fur – not this strange, bright, citrusy spice.

Confusion washed over the agony in his chest. Dulling it, and distracting him. The mountains began to fall away, darkening and disappearing in his periphery. The falling snow seemed to stall in mid-air, sparkling like captured stars. Caution slowed Rowan’s fingertips as they stretched that final inch to brush across the female’s face and turn her head towards him.

Aelin Galathynius’ cold blue eyes looked back at him, their golden core frozen solid. A hollow void. Wild no more.

The princess’ blood stained his hands, and it sunk into his skin like acid. Filling him with an infinite, boundless guilt. Aelin was dead, and it was his fault.

He’d brought her to Maeve, and she killed her. And Rowan watched.

But no – she was here, right before his eyes. Her hair was a ripple of golden silk on the pillow, each breath a wisp of delicate white fog into the cold air of the stone room. Aelin was alive and well.

But not for long, a cold voice in the back of his head interrupted. Not for long.

And Rowan couldn’t find any disagreement within himself.

For even if she survived her looming encounter with Maeve, afterwards, she would leave. Back to Adarlan, or Terrasen, or Eyllwe. Onto other dangers. And he probably would never see her again.

Rowan stood up from the bed, and the princess sighed and turned over, her arm spreading out into the empty space he left behind. He lit a fire in the hearth, opened the window, and launched himself into the night sky – seeking answers from the wind that he knew it could not give him.

It was almost as though the dream had been crafted specifically to torture him, to make every part of him writhe in discomfort.

Rowan was used to dreaming of Lyria, was accustomed to closing his eyes each evening and being tortured with her scent, her bloodstained fingers, her broken body. Her screams. But this, this…lack, was almost even worse.

He was supposed to dream of her, his lost love. Was supposed to feel that pain for every day, every second, until he was returned to her in the Afterworld. For that pain to be taken away, for it to be turned on its head in such a way, was a violation of that unwritten contract. Of the agreement he’d made with himself when he gave his life over to Maeve. And so the guilt gnawed at him, a hungry animal.

But then seeing Aelin’s face in death, and knowing it was his fault –

Rowan shuddered, choking on the image and swerving in midair as he temporarily lost his balance. Even just imagining that guilt was beyond his capabilities. He couldn’t be the death of her. He refused to be.

But that meeting was creeping up on them, drawing ever closer. Each day Aelin improved by leaps and bounds. She was a natural fighter, taking everything he threw at her in stride, and then some. Even Fenrys and Connall couldn’t compare to her.

Even so, Aelin had not even come close to reaching her full potential. The iron bars locked around her power had not weakened, Aelin had only gotten better at navigating around them. She now knew how to access small amounts of her gift, and could control and manipulate those small portions, but the vast majority remained inaccessible to her. Held under lock and key.

But it almost didn’t even matter. Aelin was powerful enough that even without access to her entire gift, she was nearly ready to meet Maeve. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Rowan cursed inwardly, and made to turn back to the fortress, the blackened sky only just beginning to pale into a navy blue.

He could feel the days pressing in on him, the end of his time with Aelin looming close. There was a part of him that wanted to make the most of that time, that tasted the remnants of her blood on his tongue and wanted to damn the consequences to hell. Aelin had claimed him as a friend – was there a chance that she wanted him in that other way as well?

But it was only a very small part. There was still that male- no, man, across the sea. The love that had sent her away. A steel-cotton-and-birchwood trace in her blood. And though his mark had been fading in her scent of late, the amethyst ring remained on her finger, a clear sign of her feelings.

No, she didn’t want him the way he wanted her. But that was fine. In actuality, it was probably for the best. Rowan didn’t know what he would do if she had decided to pursue him for anything more than friendship. Aelin was relentless when she wanted something, and Rowan’s self-control was far from faultless. And there were more significant things to separate them than a captain across the sea.

Rowan sailed through the window of their rooms, shifted, and settled into the chair before the worktable. He removed the blades from their concealed places in his vambraces, and studiously began to clean them. There was still at least an hour before the sun truly dawned, but there was no chance of Rowan going back to sleep.

He reached beneath the work table, his hand stretching into the compartment hidden just underneath, searching for his sharpening set. But then his fingers brushed past an unexpected object – something he hadn’t thought about in weeks.

Rowan pulled out the bundle and unrolled it on top of the table surface, revealing the knives he had confiscated from Aelin all those months ago. Most of them were in piss-poor condition, having been neglected for so long (and not having been of particularly great quality to begin with). But there was one that stood out.

It was silver, and though it was burnished with dirt, the metal was of good make. The edge was strong, though dull, and the handle was wrapped in a sturdy leather thong. It was a good, solid weapon. One that could remain useful years after weaker tools had succumbed to the pressure of time.

Rowan discarded the other blades, grabbed his felt cloth and sharpening rod, and set to work.

···

Soon, Aelin awoke and headed down to the kitchens to help with breakfast.  Rowan went with her, thinking to grab some food before the kitchens filled with demi-Fae. On his way back up to his rooms however, Malakai found him.

The old male got right to the point. “Another body’s been found.” Rowan’s jaw locked, and a stone dropped into his stomach. “And there’s been a letter for you – it came with the courier this morning. She arrived just as I was about to go find you, so I thought I would deliver it for her.”

Malakai handed Rowan the letter, his eyes cold and hard, but Rowan knew that the aggression wasn’t directed towards him. This was the second body they had discovered this week, the other having been found three days earlier by Bas on his usual circuit. Rowan had forced Aelin to remain at Mistward that day to practice while he flew to the site to confirm Bas’ report, and to dispose of the body. But this time, he doubted he would be able to convince her to stay.

Rowan sighed and took the letter, recognizing the writing as Vaughn’s, but instead of opening it in the hallway he tucked it into a pocket in his tunic and turned his eyes back towards Malakai.

Without any further prompting, he launched into a description of the body’s location. It had been found by a sentry who belonged to a neighboring fortress to the south, far beyond any of the other sites. It had been spotted thirty-two miles directly southwest, just off the coast. Once the sentry returned, the commander at that fortress informed Malakai of the discovery.

Rowan only nodded at the male, who then jerked his head tersely in return and retreated back to the sentry station atop the battlement wall.

Each time Malakai arrived bearing news that yet another demi-Fae had been murdered it got harder. And now, it was the second time this very week. How many more would die before Rowan could figure out what the hell he was missing?

Rowan returned to his rooms in a daze, distractedly tearing open the report from Vaughn. It was short and to the point, as all Vaughn’s reports were. Apparently, Remelle, Benson, and Essar had arrived, and were now settling into the southwestern court to play diplomat and to spy for their queen – meaning that Vaughn was now on his way back to Doranelle.

Rowan set down the letter and sighed. Then began to gather up his many blades, and ready himself for a lengthy morning run.

···

Aelin had gotten even faster. Thirty-two miles – the farthest she had ever run. She had to push her Fae body to the limit, and yet they still made great time – it was still mid-morning when they arrived at the sea cliffs, where the body of the unknown demi-Fae was waiting for them.

Aelin stripped off her tunic, her chest heaving, forcing the white band she wrapped around her breasts to stretch and contract with each breath. Rowan averted his eyes, unbuttoning his own jacket while a delicate heat kissed his cheeks. He silently cursed at himself.

After they caught their breath, Rowan sent out a few feelers of wind, and they brought back impressions of pine and mist and birdsong…and a scent trail leading towards the shoreline. He and Aelin carefully approached the site, now close enough that Rowan didn’t even need his wind to scent the rotting corpse.

“Well, I can certainly smell him this time,” Aelin said wryly.

“This body has been rotting here longer than the demi-Fae from three days ago.” Rowan mused aloud. But then he regretted it when a spike of irritation struck him in Aelin’s scent. She definitely hadn’t forgiven him for leaving her behind earlier this week.

Rowan fully expected a sharp retort from the princess, scolding him for his protectiveness, but then the body of the demi-Fae came into view.

The ground around the body was torn up, the pine carpet full of gouges and hollows. There was a small stream just ahead, and even over its rushing, Rowan could clearly hear the buzzing of thousands of busy flies. All of which were hovering just above what appeared to be a heap of clothing piled behind a small boulder.

He approached the contorted form, swearing viciously as the smell began to overwhelm him. He leaned over to examine the male, forced to cover his mouth and nose with a forearm.

The demi-Fae’s face was twisted in horror, the obligatory dried blood oozing from the mouth, nostrils, and ears. The skin was wrinkled and dried as usual, but the clothes were perhaps more torn-up than others had been.

Aelin took a step forwards, her face twisted in disgust. “It has our attention and it knows it,” she said. “It’s targeting demi-Fae – either to send a message, or because they…taste good. But – ” Her voice cut off, her face becoming contemplative. “What if there’s more than one?”

Rowan’s brows raised in surprise. There had been moments where he had considered it, had though that the creature’s scent varied slightly between bodies. But he’d never been sure. And it had seemed even more unlikely that there were multiple overlooked and undetected creatures stalking the countryside.

Aelin moved to stand behind him, her scent filling with a nauseated horror. But as always, she didn’t let it overwhelm her.

“You’re old as hell,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “You must have considered that we’re dealing with a few of them, given how vast the territory is. What if the one we saw in the barrows wasn’t even the creature responsible for these bodies?”

Rowan narrowed his eyes, and gave her a shallow nod. She could very well be right – most land-locked predators didn’t have a hunting range beyond fifteen square miles, and the creature had killed over an area far closer to a hundred.

“Rowan,” Aelin’s worried tone pulled him from his train of thought. “Rowan, tell me you see what I’m seeing.” She swatted at the flies uselessly, her gaze fixed on the male’s hands, where you could just see –

Rowan cursed, crouching to get a closer look. There were small cuts along the palms, as if he had dug in his fingernails. Rowan used the tip of a blade to push back a bit of clothing torn at the collar. “This male – ”

“Fought.” Aelin interrupted. “He fought back against it. None of the others did, according to the reports.” She squatted beside him, holding out a hand for Rowan’s dagger.

He hesitated for a moment, but then her eyes met his, and he pressed the hilt into her open palm. Only for the afternoon.

Her lips twitched as she grabbed the dagger, seeming to tease him right back. I know, I know. I haven’t earned my weapons back yet. Don’t get your feathers ruffled.

Her gaze left his before he could respond, prematurely cutting off their silent conversation. Rowan snarled at her. He only got a quiet amusement in response.

Aelin carefully advanced towards the rotting forearm, gently running the tip of the dagger underneath the male’s cracked nails, and then smearing the contents on the back of her own hand.

A stain of oily black.

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, leaning over her outstretched hand and sniffing the strange substance. He jerked back automatically, snarling. The smell…it was as though the stench coating the bodies had been distilled, condensed into solid form. And it was fouler than anything Rowan had ever smelled before. “That’s not dirt.”

Possibilities raced through his mind, each seeming less likely than the last. But that night-black oil…it couldn’t be blood.

“This isn’t possible.” Aelin jerked to her feet, her hands shaking slightly as she started to pace, all of a sudden filled with a manic energy. “This – this – this – ” her words came out in a stutter, and Rowan found himself rising slowly and carefully, forcing himself to press down on the panic that filled his own body at the sight of Aelin so frantic.

“I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” The words didn’t seem to be directed at him, and instead Aelin was wrapped up in her own thoughts. No – her memories.

“Tell me,” Rowan growled, unable to wait any longer.

Aelin raised her eyes to meet his, her face tight. She moved to rub her eyes, but then seemed to remember the black oil still marking her skin, and went to wipe them on her shirt. Only then remembering that she wasn’t wearing one – only the breast band.

Her face twisted, and she crouched and ran her fingers in the stream, then rose and provided Rowan with an explanation. What she told him, astounded him.

Aelin had been holding out even more than he had suspected.

She told him of a creature, discovered in the catacombs beneath a library, within the very palace where she had been held captive for so many months. A beast with black blood and talons and a mutilated face – a demon with a human heart. Created, and held, beneath a clock tower made of Wyrdstone.

She told him of Wyrdmarks, of learning a language by firelight with the help of a friend, Nehemia, each word aching with the pain of her loss. Of how she had used the marks to contain the demon while she had killed it, cutting it to pieces right before the eyes of the crown prince.

She told him of the Wyrdkeys. And of the information that Maeve was holding hostage. Information that was necessary to stop a king who already possessed at least one of these keys, and was using it to create these demons. Targeting those with magic in their blood to be their hosts.

“The demon beneath the clock tower had been left there because of some defect, some flaw.” Aelin said, “But what if there were others, a new version that had been perfected?”

She shook with cold, her eyes cast to the ground, and Rowan sent a warm breeze her way. Wrapping the air around her like a silken ribbon, and erasing the gooseflesh that coasted her arms and stomach.

Rowan’s thoughts were twisting and contorting, but he held his face steady. This was the information he’d been missing. The connection that allowed the pieces to fall into place. He remembered the man Namonora had shown him, the man with the tale of a lethal darkness emerging from across the sea…

“How did it get here?” he asked.

Aelin shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. But that smell – I’ll never forget that smell as long as I live. Like it had rotted from the inside out, its very essence ruined.”

Rowan began to pace. “But it retained some cognitive abilities. And whatever this is, it must have them, too, if it’s dumping the bodies.”

“Demi-Fae…they would make perfect hosts, with so many of them able to use magic and no one in Wendlyn or Doranelle caring if they live or die. But these corpses – if he wanted to kidnap them, why kill them?”

“Unless they weren’t compatible,” Rowan said. “And if they weren’t compatible, then what better use for them than to drain them dry?”

“But what’s the point of leaving the bodies where we can find them? To drum up fear?”

Rowan ground his jaw, stalking through the torn-up earth as if the ground would provide them with the answers they sought. But the dirt was only dirt.

“Burn the body, Aelin,” Rowan said, removing the sheath and belt that had housed the dagger still dangling from her hand and tossing them to her. She caught them easily. “We’re going hunting.”

···

Even when Rowan shifted into his other form, and circled high above, they found nothing. No trace of the creature, or of anyone at all, for that matter. This area wasn’t very densely habited – most of the local farmers inhabited an area farther down the coast.

As the light grew dim, they climbed up into the biggest, densest tree Rowan could find with several square miles, and they squeezed together onto a massive branch, huddled against the cold. Rowan hadn’t brought supplies for an overnight trip, and even with the coverage provided by the thick pine boughs, any fire would be seen for miles.

Aelin complained, petitioning to be allowed to summon even just a flicker of flame. But Rowan only pointed out that there was no moon that night, and as they had just proven – worse things than skinwalkers prowled these woods.

Instead of giving her space to grumble any further, Rowan asked her to explain more about the creature she’d encountered in the library, for her to detail its every strength and weakness. She told him readily, but nothing much stood out.

The creatures were strong, difficult to kill. Without the weaknesses of mortals, and with many of the benefits of immortal ones. As she spoke, Rowan pulled out one of the longer of his knives and began to clean it, more out of a desire to use the task to focus his own attention, than out of actual necessity.

“Do you think I was mistaken?” Aelin asked softly, “About the creature, I mean.”

Rowan turned away from her in order to pull his shirt over his head, and access the blades strapped to the skin beneath. He almost felt as though he could feel Aelin’s attention on him, could feel the slight pressure of her gaze on his back.

But when he turned back to face her, her eyes were fixed to his face. Still, the ghost of a smile marked his expression as he said, “We’re dealing with a cunning, lethal predator, regardless of where it originated and how many there are.” He grasped the small dagger that had been strapped over his left pectoral, and began to thoroughly wipe it down. “If you were mistaken, I’d consider it a blessing.”

Aelin leaned back against the tree trunk, her scent filling with exhaustion and dejection as she fell into her own thoughts.

Rowan let her be, instead turning to the familiar ritual of preparation. He systematically worked his way through his collection of blades, and then used the water skin to rinse his hands, neck, and chest, cleaning them of sweat and grime. Every now and again, feeling that faint pressure of Aelin’s watchful eyes.

He told himself that it didn’t mean anything, that she was looking at him simply because he was something to look at – an object in her field of vision. Her scent told him nothing, and so he dismissed those unwanted voices in his mind that thought that maybe, she was watching him for a different reason.

But still, the pressure felt…nice. It felt good to be looked at by her. To be seen.

Rowan pulled his shirt back on and settled his body against the trunk, his side pressing comfortably into Aelin’s. They sat in the dark quietly for a while until Aelin said, “You once told me that when you find your mate, you can’t stomach the idea of hurting them physically. Once you’re mated, you’d sooner harm yourself.”

Rowan turned to face her, the gold in her eyes glinting softly in the faint light. Her expression was unreadable. “Yes; why?”

“I tried to kill him. I mauled his face, then held a dagger over his heart because I thought he was responsible for Nehemia’s death. I would have done it if someone hadn’t stopped me. If Chaol – ” her voice broke off. “If he’d truly been my mate, I wouldn’t have been able to do that, would I?”

Rowan hesitated. He wanted to say no, that he didn’t think that Chaol was her mate. The man’s scent was fading from her blood, each day growing fainter and fainter. And it didn’t sit in that deep, essential place where Fae carried the scents of their mates.

No, the captain was a passing note in Aelin’s life, small and irrelevant. But the amethyst ring still glittered on Aelin’s finger, a reminder of the man who still held her heart. And Rowan wasn’t sure that Aelin wanted to hear that the man wasn’t hers to claim. Love could be a hard thing to let go of, regardless of how blatantly its falseness stared you in the face.

So instead Rowan said, “You hadn’t been in your Fae form for ten years, so perhaps your instincts weren’t even able to take hold. Sometimes, mates can be together intimately before the actual bond snaps into place.”

“It’s a useless hope to cling to, anyway.”

“…Do you want the truth?”

Aelin only tucked her chin into her tunic and closed her eyes. “Not tonight.”

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[vixensheart]

3, 11, 25 ~~~

3. What is one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (Consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway.) 

H okay so for pretty much any fic idea I have, I always have a scene or two in mind when starting and I work my way to them. In both Penguin Shit and SitS respectively, I’ve hit at least one of those scenes. (Bakugou’s Trial for SitS and the gift shop storage room scene in Penguin Shit.) But there are. More of course, lol. I do have other fic ideas sitting on the back burner that each have their own anchor scenes.... 

Here’s a little of one of such things hidden away in my WIPS: 

~Also under a cut because this made the post huge~

Distant jinging had Izuku stirring. 

“I know, I know, Mitsuki. I’m getting Izuku now.” 

He blinked, gaze coming to focus in the shadows of his bedroom. Izuku scrunched his nose. Light spilled from the hall, alongside the noises of someone stirring around. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. 

“I...yes...no, I- look, it doesn’t matter. We’ll come to your place and figure things out from there. I know. We will.” 

His mother’s voice drifted to him, rousing him towards wakefulness. She sounded...worried. With furrowed brows, Izuku slid off the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor and making him shiver. He crept to his doorway, pulling open the door and peeking out. Inko stood at the counter, phone in hand and back turned. Izuku heard her sigh, a heavy sound, and watched as she tossed the phone onto the countertop. “Mom?” he said. She turned, worry lines etched into her features. Izuku felt his heart jump. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s going on?” 

Inko tried to smile, though Izuku could still see it wobble. She hesitated, then sighed. “Izuku, honey, I’ll explain on the way, just- pack a bag. We’re heading to the Bakugou’s.” She turned and began rummaging through their cabinets. Izuku could only stare. 

“We are?” 

“Yes! Now please, Izuku.” 

So many questions sprung up at once. Izuku glanced from his mother’s frantic movements to the alarm clock on his nightstand; it was nearly one in the morning. He hesitated. What on earth was so important that they had to leave now, of all times? He had school tomorrow, he was supposed to be sleeping right now. What would he even pack? He looked back to his mother, who was accruing a pile of things on their messy kitchen counter. Cans of soup, towels, knives? Something akin to fear crawled in Izuku’s belly. He turned to stare into his bedroom. 

Messy sheets, and peeling posters, a forgotten glass of water beside an All Might alarm clock, and stacks of books on the floor. There was a pile of dirty laundry beside his closet, and his forgotten schoolbag at his feet. It was a room he’d known all his life. Izuku shook his head and stooped down, scooping up his bag. He debated on tossing his books, but decided against it. Instead, he grabbed another set of clean clothes and stuffed those inside. He grabbed a jacket and slung the bag onto his shoulders before hurrying into the living space. 

The television was on. Inko stood in front of it, her back to Izuku, outlined in the flicker of the rapidly changing scenes scrolling across the screen. 

“...outbreak reaching new levels of severity. We’ve received news that those affected by the mysterious infection display aggravated levels of aggression. If you notice anything unusual among your neighbors, please, do not interact! Contact local authorities at…”

“Mom?” 

Inko whirled around. She was curled in on herself, an arm hugging her middle, her free hand hovering close to her face. “Oh, Izuku.” Inko clicked the remote and the television blinked off abruptly, leaving the two standing in the shadows. Inko threw the remote towards the couch and lurched forward, grasping his hand and tugging. “Come on, let’s go.” 

They tugged on their shoes, grabbed their things, and scrambled out the door. Izuku watched his mother’s hands tremble as she locked their apartment door. 

“Missus Midoriya?” 

They both whipped around. Their neighbor, Shindou, stood by his door. Inko relaxed. “Oh, Shindou-kun. You startled me.” 

“Sorry,” he said, seemingly sheepish. “Can I borrow your phone? Mine doesn’t seem to be working. I was trying to call my parents, and, well…” 

“Of course.” Inko pulled out her phone and handed it to him. Izuku shuffled in place. He stared down at his red sneakers and fought back a yawn. It had to have been nearly two in the morning, now. Getting up for school tomorrow was going to really, really suck. That was, if he was actually going tomorrow. Izuku frowned. High school was far from amazing, but he hated missing his studies. It felt wrong. 

There was a sigh. “Damn, nothing. It’s like the line is dead.” 

“I’m sorry, dear,” Inko murmured. “It was working a little while ago.” She paused. “Why don’t you come with us? The Bakugou’s have a landline, maybe that will work.” 

Shindou’s shoulders slumped, and he smiled, grateful. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”

Distant sirens blared, cutting into the silence. It wasn’t uncommon to hear ambulances or police cruisers whizzing by, sirens loud and lights bright. But paired with the urgency of his mother ushering them down the staircase, it was unsettling. They weren’t the only ones descending in the dead of night, either; each flight they travelled down, they were joined by other patrons carrying belongings and whispering amongst themselves. Izuku felt a little sick. 

What was happening?

Outside was worse. 

People were running down the sidewalk. A whole fleet of police cruisers whizzed past. Izuku thought he could taste smoke in the air. There were screams. He met his mother’s gaze with wide eyes, and she reached out and grasped his hand. “Come on, let’s go.” The three of them took off running down the street. 

Chaos was everywhere. 

At the corner, flames lit up the night. The local bakery. Izuku loved to stop there some mornings to get fresh bread or donuts. Army jeeps crowded the streets, military men and women swarming. They shouted directions, blocked alleyways. Izuku shuddered at the gleam of their weapons. “Keep running!” Inko yelled. “We’re almost there, just another block!” 

Then, a loud, animalistic snarling caught Izuku’s attention. Someone, a man, leaped at them from the shadows. He tackled Shindou to the ground, eyes mad. Time slowed as the crazed man lurched forward and bit the junction of Shindou’s neck and shoulder. The scream of agony he let out pierced Izuku’s ears. He ripped his hand from his mother’s and grasped fistfuls of the crazy man’s shirt. “Get off of him!” he screamed, throwing the man off Shindou and onto the sidewalk. Inko was already hauling Shindou to his feet. 

“Izuku! Come on!” 

~

So yeah, lol. Maybe I’ll get around to actually writing that one, eventually. Maybe. 

11. What do you envy of other writers? 

Oh boy. Gosh, there’s a lot, lol. Style, the effortless way some of y’all stitch a story together. Tone. Some stories are just stunningly poetic and it physically hurts that’s how pretty they are. (Looking at you and Fire & Brimstone, Ama. That story??? Is STUNNING????? I love.) Or like how other writers just always know what’s happening and have every detail planned and I’m over here like 

Planning is hard, y’all. But yeah. I have a lot I’m proud of, of course, but man. If I could inject Ama-level world building into my veins I’d be superman. 

25. What part of writing is the most fun? 

Hmm... I think. Probably getting to share the wild ideas in my head with anyone who cares to enjoy them. It’s nice, being able to make something that brings joy to someone else. I do also love inventing scenes and capturing details, too. Very satisfying stuff.  THANKS FOR ASKING <#

[ofmythsandmadness]

Hidden Attraction

PAIRING: Diego Hargreeves x reader SUMMARY: It’s all fun and games, until feelings come out and get hurt. WORD COUNT: 4.5k 

WARNINGS: none really?? just fluff. A/N: I’ve never posted one of these before lol I don’t know what I’m doing but I liked this one shot and I want to put it out into the world. I’m a sucker for Diego Hargreeves. He needs more love (and I’m gonna send it his way). Also this is in third pov but it is x reader. Not oc.

"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY FALLING ASLEEP?"

"Uh...no?"

Her eyes had flown open the second the words began to leave his lips, a sheepish smile beginning to grow as she realised she had been caught. Even while blinking at the bright light - consequences of drifting even just for a few minutes - she could make out his frown, jesting but still masking his own grin at the situation. His eyes were narrowed and the longer she stared at him, attempting to sit back up on the couch in a totally not graceful manner, the harder it got for him to hold a straight face.

At the last second, just before he broke, he gasped out a retort in an ever-dramatic manner he clung to, "Am I really that uninteresting?"

In response, she groaned and tossed a pillow his way, a half-hearted whine leaving her throat during her readjustment on the couch. He blocked the legs and laughed as she groaned, arms supporting her still-sleepy head as she tried to make him 'stop, dude, alright?' because even though it totally was, she would cling to the position that none of this was funny.

Truth was, he could not be further from that, being one of the few people that could talk for legitimately hours about absolutely nothing and keep her attention. However, it had been a long day, trudging through the hours after waking up at a ridiculously early time, and even spending time with the one guy she knew who could make a phone book a riveting conversation piece (were phone books even relevant, anymore?), that was not enough to cure her short-fledged sleepiness, apparently.

It had not helped that she had sat back instead of talking or trying to be entertaining, content with sitting beside him and watching. Her head had been resting against the pillows littering his couch, legs resting just beside his thighs with socked toes curled up. His concentrated hums as he cleaned his knives, followed by quiet curses and mutters, was frankly adorable but the quiet nature was just another method to lull her into a dream world, a smile tickling her lips as she watched with her head propped up.

She was not even tired, per se, there was just a comfortable nature that came with him that allowed for a feeling of safety to wash over and assure her that there were no troubles to be had there. Came with the territory, maybe.

"Sorry," she grumbled, seating herself totally upright and beside him, just a breath away - the space between them a sharp reminder of what exactly they were. Her legs curled up to rest beside and though her body almost naturally inclined, she dared not lean her weight. "I'm the worst company, aren't I?"

At that, Diego let out one of his sharp laughs, a bark that shattered any fragments of sleep still clinging tight. "Shut up."

"Shut up, what?"

"Shut up, and don't say you're the worst company," he chuckled. He shifted on the couch and his arm grazed against hers, skin just barely touching skin in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. Everything felt cold, just for a second, then hot like a burning flame threatening to catch fire all throughout a wooden home. "Because you know what? You're not."

"Oh, so you like having me around? Or you just like free-loading at my apartment?"

"Ha - right. I wouldn't be here if I didn't like you."

"Aw, you like me, Hargreeves?"

To that, he offered no answer, his eyes trained away and body turned slightly so she could not read his expression. Curiosity, sharp and dark bit at her mind, corrupting her thoughts before she could stop her. It was just a joke, and sure it was a bit of an awkward response to ask for a reason why, but she could not stop herself, subconsciously wishing that there was more of an answer - the words you craved - attached to the joke.

However, there was nothing, just his brown eyes shifting back to meet hers. His arm had moved as he turned, sitting with his legs raised up with that silly, stupid grin that drove her absolutely wild. Could he possibly know how much it hurt, to look upon it and not act out of the wild, dangerous feelings heating up her heart like so?

He asked, then, if she wanted him to stay or would just end up falling asleep again - because he promised to buy her pizza, but ‘was there a point if she was going to sleep through the day’? To that, she shrieked and slammed another pillow his way, pretending to cry bloody murder against his slight. Damn him and his jokes, his words always sending a flutter through her system even when it was over something so meaningless as food.

She nodded, wrapping her sweater closer around her as she sat back on the couch. She was not so much cold, just ashamed for her thoughts as he walked away, curious and red-hot with hidden attraction. It was ridiculous, as though she had fallen straight from a teen fiction novel - only with her situation, there was no happy ever after, no grand finale with a sweeping kiss and confession of their love. For one, neither were really into the romantic gestures that made up cliche romance movies, but also she sort of knew her feelings were one-sided, that she sat alone in her boat wishing that he would change his mind on how he felt about her.

She had known him for a while. Felt like forever, but it was more like four years, give or take. After meeting him at a bar, after one of his missions, the pair grew close, very quickly and strong, too. There was no romantic tension for a while, just interest in one another, talking and laughing and spending long nights after his nightly patrols pretending everything was good in the world. It had been hard before to find good, genuine people in a world driven by numbers and climbing over others to hit the top, but the pair of them had bonded over a love for horribly bad movies and stupid jokes that often made no sense to anyone but the pair of them. They played video games when a stack of work lurked in the background, knew each other's coffee orders so that when they stopped by for the evening they had that to offer along with a smile, and could talk about the most random of topics for hours on end. She knew how to make him smile after a long night, and he hugged her close when the stress got too bad and she felt like she was in too over her head. What made their friendship so good, however, was that they could do the complete opposite and find comfort in one another's silent presence, busy with their own tasks but happy for the company.

With him, everything was easy and natural. She never found herself trying to prove herself in any way, she was just herself and he seemed to reflect that back to her. Everything was easy and always made sense. Y/N and Diego - they just worked.

It was just her luck that she fell for him, feelings lurking constantly in the back of their animosity. She hated herself for it. Of course, she had to try and ruin a good friendship, something so rare to come by - she could have been fine with just remaining platonic, but her heart beat in a different direction than her brain and she fell, hard. Even harder, knowing he felt nothing towards her in that way and never would - hating herself for getting angry that he did not. There was no point in frustration towards something so uncontrollable as human emotions, even though she did grew upset time and time again.

The only good thing about the equation was his oblivion, saving her from embarrassment or any further shame.

No matter. She was cool, had been for the three and a half years she had felt that way and could hold on because her friendship with him meant far too much to be sabotaged by a schoolgirl crush.

She grinned as he headed back, simply because she had to - the way he pranced, yes pranced with his phone in hand and a grin on his lips as though he had done a greater deed than just order pizza, it was ridiculously intoxicating. He was so pure, so perfect, sometimes.

He collapsed back onto the couch. His arms went back to stretch across the back and his head went back as well, dark locks falling across his face in an almost perfect spiral. The half-way curls, normally gelled back in some sort of complex nature, were messy and fell all around his head, making him look younger, like a boy seen once in an old photograph that the women would ogle at. A golden boy as the last rays of sunshine pierced his half-drawn curtains, eyes half-shut against the light and his face lax.

He, however, had to ruin the moment with a dramatic sigh and a grumble not quite decipherable, though perhaps a positive as she really was not quite sure if she could take such a perfect image. He mumbled again, dragging his hands down his face and pulling at the skin, causing a grotesque face that she could not help but laugh at. Though, let it be known, her chuckles came from a very different light then he would think as he looked her way.

"Are you laughing at me!?"

"Oh no, totally not," she giggled, swatting away at his hands. She shifted on the couch with a squeal as he attempted to grab at her, swinging her body as far as she could down from him as he tried to tickle. She shoved his arms away while still protesting, though her words grew more and more forced and she found herself leaning into to his half-assed embrace, still giggling even with nothing was funny. She was gravitating into his arms, relishing the close nature. As a sailor, he was her damn siren, his dark eyes and smile luring her back in - because of course that had to be the thought that came to mind, making him only so much more irresistible.

His laughter slowed into soft chuckles as he gave up on the attacks, leaving her to flop back onto his couch still wearing her giddy expression. Only, where she had assumed he would sit back up and refuse such close contact as before, his weight remained hovered over her held up by his arms, muscles flexing actually pretty fucking gloriously in the dim lighting. She shifted casually, licking her lips and watching his actions closely.

She was not sure what to think. All she could remark on was that his presence was intoxicating and how she could make out almost every little mark on his face like she had not before, complete with the tiny scar over his right eyebrow down to the mole beneath his chin that she had never noticed before.

Soon he was closer, closer than he had dared to be before, where her breath had dissipated and her heart was burning in her chest, yearning for the chance to close the distance and her eyes could only fixate on his, even while wanting to look away and save herself before she lost it.

Her eyes fought to send their gaze down to his lips, even just for a second, but she remained frozen. Her smile trembled and fell further with every passing second, replaced with lax lips and a state of confusion swimming in her eyes. Shivers flew down her spine and her right hand moved closer to his, every so often just to the point where her fingers were just grazing his and fuck, how the tension between them was killing her, where everything had stopped and yet was moving so fast, a time-space continuum that made no sense and yet was sending them flying into unknowns never quite reached before.

It seemed he felt that, too, shifting his weight with one arm resting ever so close to her hip and the other supporting himself. His front lock hung down, curling over his face and his lips fell slack slightly. His face grew closer, close enough for her to wonder just what was about to happen if there was a shared feeling between them both that had never been-

-the moment was shattered, within seconds both of them flying away from one another as loud pounding erupting and they were reminded that for some ungodly reason, the pizza man had to have the worst timing known to man, ever. Seriously, it was insane how fast he managed to show, considering it had only been what, five, ten minutes? Not even.

"That was fast."

"Uh-huh," he grumbled, slipping off the couch with a thud and headed for the door. His head was bowed and he seemed grumpy, nay, brooding, almost stomping to the door in a way she would have found cute hours before.

Not another word was said, and she was left to bury her head in her hands and silently scream.

That was a mess. All of that, leading to just a giant pile of crap, awkward moments of reconsideration on what was really felt, if she was insane for ever thinking that the two of them could have that weird rom-com moment and be more than the screw-ups who danced around one another like so.

"Food's in."

She did not respond. She really was not hungry, anymore.

The rest of the night was spent almost entirely in silence. The two of them ate, and he tried to crack a few jokes but they fell on silent ears. There was no laughter slipping from her lips, even when they quivered and debated a chuckle - there was no point. She was shaken up, confused, disappointed and upset, all in a whirlwind erupting in her chest as she tried to finish her slice of pizza.

She was not so sure what to think about that moment. Sure, it could have just been the way events played out, awkwardly slipping from one to another and leading to them too close on the couch, but her infatuated heart wanted it to be more than that. There had never been any sign of attraction before, but who was she to try to explain the logic of love? Simply because, there really was not any when it came to that mystic woman.

She slipped down the tiny hallway of the apartment, mint sucked tight in between her teeth. She called out that she was just going to the washroom, and all that was received back was a dull 'alright' from where she had been before. There was no way to even know if he had even heard her, or just heard noises and acknowledged them without a care.

The water running was a good cover up for her sighs, mutters and frustrated groans as she ran her hands through her hair and tried to think. There was no time for the hopeless romantics, and she was not about to try anything like before - she just wanted to understand, that or just let go of her own feelings and walk out of the tiny room without a care in the world, looking at him once more as a friend.

She could not, it was not a faucet that could just be flicked off, but oh, did she wish it was.

She sighed and wiped her hands off, moving to head out. Without thinking, she flung open the door with more aggression she even knew she possessed and stepped out into him, causing a collision with two identical cries of shock echoing.

Almost immediately, his hands were out to catch her before she could fall, grasping at her waist to prop her back up before a potentially bad fall. One hand slipped to her waist and the other clutched tight at her arm, pulling her back up with a soft 'I've got you' mumbled out. She bit at the inside of her lips and tried not to think about the touch, or the close quarters, or how sweet his whisper sounded - none of that would help, she had to move away, as fast as possible.

She mumbled a quick 'thank you' under her breath and tried to sort herself out. Only, she was failing rather miserably as the hands around her would not sending jolts of electricity through her and causing her brain to freeze up, leaving her to stutter and flinch into the embrace and struggle to move away.

Her gaze lifted to once more meet his, the soft look in his eyes directed her way. She took in the way his lips curved ever so slightly to suggest a smile threatening to break, and how his one hand moved slightly with his fingers rubbing against her bare skin slowly, soothingly. She was on fire.

And she had to get out, afore she got burned.

She tore out of his arms in a new rush, crying loudly that she had to get out and grab something, back to absolutely nothing but her tears and regret - though that was not shared aloud. She bustled around in search of her backpack, car keys, wherever she could have placed her phone - all the while ignoring him and his soft, almost worried calls of her name from the other sides of the room. She could not stop and allow him to have her attention again, one more slip and she would be drowning in feelings that could not make their move right then or ever, really, but emotions that threatened to-

-he called her name, louder that time, demanding attention.

She stopped, phone clutched in hand, any emotional strength left in the right. She dared not look at him. "What?"

"What is going on? What - what are you doing?"

Maybe it was the regret, the guilt, the disappointment or the sad fantasies drowning inside her head, maybe it was all or none of that that made her react - no matter. What did matter was how fast she could switch from hurt to snappy, walls flung back up in defense of her aching heart. "Excuse me?"

"Where are you going- you live here, Y/N? Why are you tryna leave?"

Oh, so that was how it would be spun. She folded her arms against her chest and glared, unsure just what she was doing but willing to wing it, anyways. "I'm just going to grab something, dunno why you're getting your knickers in a twist."

Normally, one of her signature odd expressions would make him at least chuckle, but he almost entirely ignored what was just said. Instead, he just drew closer, jaw clenched, ticking - he was upset, though not angry as she had seen him before, dealing with a new variation she could not quite decipher. Though his words claimed an upset with her, there seemed to be more than that going through his head, she just could not tell what.

"You're avoiding me."

"Avoiding you? What are you goin' on about? I've been with you all night, I'm not avoiding you."

"You won't even look at me - see, right there, you won't look at me, you're avoiding my eyes right now!"

She bit at her lip and forced herself to gaze up, though not without careful consideration of just flat out bolting out his door without another word. He was just a bit away, at that point, close to almost touching her, and still drawing nearer as their eyes linked. It was nearly impossible to stand her ground while staring him in the eyes, fighting back whatever futile emotions were fighting their way to the top. She was better than whatever her heart said, though, and she was not about to break just because of how adorable he was in that light, with-

"-Hello?"

"-huh?"

His lips were pressed into a thin line, showing how annoyed he was growing, fast and heavy. "I asked a question."

She had not been listening, though the words had been caught - as she forced herself to think back, collect what had been said, her cheeks felt warmer and damn, it was getting harder to not fall into a total puddle, right then and there.

"Look..."

"...d'ya have a problem with me? Is that it?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then why -" he groaned, running his hands through his hair and stepping back, almost immediately unleashing the frustration that was building up in his chest. "I've been trying to understand what you're trying to say but you're so damn confusing, and I don't know - I mean, if I thought you didn't want to kiss me, I wouldn't have tried, it's just-"

"-wait, what? Don't want to--, what the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying if you don't want to -- just say so, let me know that I was reading wrong into this but don't make me feel stupid about it, avoiding me and all that?"

To say she was confused, well she certainly was that, her brain muddling up with a thousand thoughts and all she could do was stare at him, take in everything that was being said and try to comprehend just what it was implying. He thought she did not have an interest, he thought that it was her trying to get out of the bad situation - which, sure she was at that moment, but that did not count in the same sense - and avoid him, when she had been pining and he had made it clear he thought of her as nothing but a friend. She wanted to laugh, and cry, and scream and yell and kiss him, all at once, though maybe not it all, just the last mostly.

"I'm not avoiding you," she muttered, gritting her teeth in an attempt to control her beating heart, "I thought you didn't give a damn about me that way, so I laid off as you wanted. You made it clear you weren't interested in me, and then -- whatever happened before, you just brushed it off! I thought it was a mistake!"

He snorted. "I only did that because you seemed so upset by it, I thought you hated me for trying to make a move!"

"That was you making a move!?"

"YES!? What does that mean?"

Everything was ridiculous about it all, both of them screaming in the middle of his apartment, his face reddened and hers flushed too, heated beyond belief. Her heart threatening to jump right out of her chest and his breathing harsh and heavy, gasping for air after going without for so long. The both of them sounded like teenagers, bickering over the stupidest of things, not twenty-somethings with semi-respectable lives and a whole wack tonne of wasted time between them both.

She was not quite sure just why she laughed, next, but suddenly a gasp of sound was leaving her lips, joined by sharp chuckles echoing about the apartment, loud and bright and clear as day. She had to actually stop for a second and rest her hand against the wall, breathless and dizzy from how hard she was laughing even as he stared on in shock.

"Why are you...what?!"

She took a shaky step forward, confidence bubbling in the same way as her dying laughter. He looked so adorable in that light, still wearing shock and confusion openly on his face as he looked on. Everything just felt so stupid, and dumb, and everything on top of oh-so-right and - wow, she was smitten, just as she had been before, losing her breath and wishing that she could finally just drum up the right words and actions.

And so, she did, at least tried to.

"I...I've been wanting to kiss you for a while," she mumbled, barely a whisper as her confidence drained fast. She was not quite sure what she was saying, what was going to fall from her lips but all she knew was that maybe for once, things were working out, the stars or something aligning and giving her a chance at something good. "I've liked you for...fucking forever, maybe? Just about - and jeez, this is so weird and stupid to say out loud."

At that, he laughed too, though it was soft and more of a recovery mechanism, an attempt to regain control before losing himself entirely. She flinched as one hand found her waist, gentle and tentative, but the touch was not hated. She relished it, leaning into it with a careful smile and stars dancing in her eyes. She then moved too, one hand finding his shoulder and the other clenching and unclenching, digging crescent moons into her palms as if to assure herself that it was not a dream, that it was all very much reality.

Somehow, someway.

He moved his other hand to find her face, moving a tendril of hair back to tuck behind her ear as though their lives had become one of the corniest but beautiful rom-coms out there, and that was their big finale moment.

His face was so close, closer than he had been before, just centimetres away and oh, how both ached to close the distance. The dim light of the TV and the sole light in the kitchen cast careful shadows against his face, but both could make out one another features perfectly, his lips slightly parted and lax and her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes began to slip shut.

"I'm...I'm going to kiss you now," he breathed, still holding his hand carefully up to her face, as though she was a fragile flower threatening to fall apart at any second. "We good on that?"

With that, she was set free and wasted no words on any response, instead choosing to prey on what little confidence she had stored left. She broke the distance between them and pressed her lips gently against his. He responded almost immediately, tilting his head just as she did and holding her close while his thumb rubbed soft circles against her waist. His hand still held her head tenderly but pressed her closer to him, his tongue cheekily swiping across her bottom lip with a smile lurking close behind. She stumbled slightly as they grew closer but with a shared giggle and shift in positions, her back was against the wall and lips back on his and her hands clasped tightly around his neck. Her heart was beating about a million miles a minute and truly, their 'fairy-tale moment' felt a thousand times better than anything she had watched in those cheesy movies of days long past.

Sure, the two of them were standing alone in his apartment in the near-dark with a box of half-eaten pizza open on the table, clock ticking close to nine and the sounds of angry cars and pedestrians echoing outside the cracked-open window, but neither cared. They could be just about anywhere, at that moment, nothing else mattered just then.

[aworldoffandoms]

Runaway

A Royal Romance Story

Synopsis: Two years have passed since Queen Ariel vanished. Two years Liam has searched but ends up empty-handed. All that was left of her departure was a note. Could Ariel not handle being Queen or was there foul play at hand?

Will Liam find his beloved or is it a case of Ariel not wanting to be found?

Chapter 1: Gone With the Wind

Pairing: Liam x MC [Ariel]

Word Count: 2, 187 (give or take)

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language (swearing)

Summary: Drake reminisces on the moment that tore is friend’s heart apart.

A/N: This is my first try at TRR fanfic so please be gentle haha. 

This series will focus on these two (and the gang, of course, lol) and there might be some future NSFW and adult moments including sexual references, swearing (there might be a lot of swearing) and other violent situations (maybe). You have been warned and you consent that you are 18+ or at least mature enough to handle these themes that might be explored.

I’m not sure if this idea has been explored yet but it just popped in my head. I hope you enjoy!

If you want to be tagged please let me know :)

Thanks to @the-everlasting-dream, @pixieferry, @bobasheebaby and @lorirwrites for all your help, beta edits and/or advice! It means a lot! 

Special thanks to @ernestsinclairs for your wonderful help with getting this first chapter up and ready :) 

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Pixelberry and all characters belong to them. The plot is all mine.

Present Day

There’s a knock on Liam’s study door and he calls for whoever it is to come in as he goes through the last of his documents after a long day of governance. It was a wonder he could get the right amount of sleep with the amount of sheer work he was dealing with on a daily basis.

He looks up as the door opens and his mouth pulls up in a small smile seeing his best friend stride in, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. Giving Liam a faint smile, Drake turns to glance down at the pile of documents on his desk.

“You still working this late? It’s past eleven. Do you ever stop?”

Liam chuckles, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers, giving Drake a shrug.

“You’d think that a King would get some time to relax but evidently that does not happen. Life of a royal.”

Drake drops himself down on the couch in the corner of Liam’s study, crossing his legs at the knee, obviously at ease.

He stares at his friend, already knowing why he was pushing himself so much. He knew Liam well. Every time a worry came up, a disruption in his life, he would throw himself into his work, drowning out the troubles with stacks of papers and the bright red wax of the royal seal. It was to get away from the memories, the thinking, the ‘what ifs’, the constant worry and the heartbreak.

He hated seeing his best friend like this but there wasn’t anything he could do. They’d been powerless for a little over two years. Every lead towards Ariel was a dead end. Every person even remotely close to her didn’t provide anything that could help them.  

Drake sighs, running his free hand through his hair as he took a sip of his whiskey with the other. “Don’t you think that you are pushing yourself too hard right now, Liam?”

Liam glances up and his eyes are duller than their normal sparkle. It hangs over him like a cloud over his eyes, no real light to ignite them, and the one person that could make them light up simply wasn’t there anymore. Drake would almost be angry at that fact alone but he knew that if he brought it up with Liam, he would shoo Drake out the door again. He almost always didn’t want to hear it.

Liam doesn’t answer his question but stands up and heads to his bar cart, pouring a glass of whiskey himself, the clang of ice against the glass almost deafening in the silence.

Liam turns around shrugging at his friend. He was staying silent because he knew that if he talked about it, it would rip through his heart like a thousand knives. It always did. The loss of her was always constant. The pain had never left him even after two years.

The glint of his wedding band catches his eye in the dim light of his study, and he sighs heavily. As he stares at the physical evidence of the happiest time of his life, pain lances through him again. All those memories running through his mind before he had to squeeze his eyes shut to dispel the amount of pain and hurt that was threatening to drown him.

After a while, not wanting to torture himself any longer, he glances up at his best friend and gives him a weak smile. “I have to busy myself, Drake. It’s the only way to not think about it.”

Drake sighs, but if it was out of either frustration or understanding, Liam didn’t know.

“I understand that Liam, but there is something as working too much.”

Liam moves over to the couch to sit next to Drake, running his hands through his hair and staring into the now empty whiskey glass.

Drake straightens up in the couch and leans forward, staring into the small fireplace set in the far wall next to a green fern that Ariel had placed there when she mentioned to Liam that he needed to have a colour and a little nature in his study. Liam relented because he always did. Anything to make her happy. Drake tried his best to make his words hurt less but they didn’t do the desired effect because Liam still looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

“You have to slow down and think about your health. Over-exerting yourself isn't good for you or Cordonia. It’s not good for the country if their King is teetering on the edge of exhaustion all the time. I think . . . ” Drake paused, thinking heavily before going on. He had loved Ariel - everyone had. But it had become all consuming. Drake knew why the king looked so exhausted. He always made time to find her. Everyday he’d take time out of his busy schedule to search. “ . . . I think you need to stop looking for her. She’s not coming back. She’s gone. You have to deal with that.”

Liam glances up at his best friend. For the first time in years, he can’t help but enjoy the spark of anger exploding inside his chest.

“How can I stop, Drake, when I have no fucking clue where she is in the first place? She’s my wife. And she just vanished.”

Drake sighs, already steeling himself for his angry retort. He only said this once before and that was after the first anniversary after her disappearance, the first time Liam had laid a hand on him ever since they were kids and it was all fun and games. Drake suffered two black eyes and a broken eye-socket and he vowed never to say it again.

He risked that damage now because he loved his best friend and he hated seeing him like this. He hadn’t been himself ever since he found that note that ripped his heart in two. His heart ached for Liam. He wouldn’t want to wish this on anyone.

The thought of the love of his life vanishing gave him pause and he felt a pang inside his chest. He thanked the heavens that he had a firecracker in Olivia and that he still had her with him.

They’d all seen the exact moment that Liam’s heart cracked and shattered into a million pieces, spilling onto the floor, festering into a puddle of anguish and pain.

Two Years Ago…

Liam stood with his hands clenched in a tight fist, the knuckles turning white as he sculled his whiskey, the lines of his jaw clenching.

Drake stood there with him, wanting to comfort him but knew that it would not do any good to his mental or emotional state right now.

“Liam? What’s wrong? Why did you call all of us in here?”

When Bastien had come downstairs to the palace dining room and asked him, Hana, Olivia and Maxwell to meet Liam in his master suite, they were all rightfully confused. The royal chambers belonged to the Royals. An unusual request like this couldn’t bode well.

Even so, with their hearts sinking, they complied with Bastien’s demand and all of them traipsed up the grand staircase to meet the King’s Guard.

When they all filed into the room they found Liam sitting on the bed, face still hidden, his arms resting limply on his knees as a single piece of paper hung between his fingers.

When Liam glanced up, there was a gasp from Olivia and Hana at the sight of him. To find the King of Cordonia with red-rimmed eyes and tears streaking down his face was more than a little weird and bewildering.

They were all accustomed to the stoic, reserved King to always be in place but Drake had to remind himself that just because Liam had Cordonia to look after and should always have a face of calm, passive decorum, he was also human too.

Drake stepped forward tentatively. “Liam? You called us?”

Liam didn’t say anything, just handed the note to Drake whose eyes got wider and wider until by the end his heart was breaking too, not because of what it said, but of what it was doing to Liam.

“Oh no,” Hanna said, her voice almost on the verge of tears.

“My little blossom…” Maxwell sighs as he runs a hand through his brunette hair.

Drake finally tears his gaze away from the note and meets his best friends pained eyes.

“Liam…where did you find this?”

The king remained silent as he walks to his bar cart and only filled his glass with more than a few fingers of whiskey.

“I found it on our bed. It was propped up against the pillows with this.”

Liam turns around and walks over to them and drops in Drake’s hand Ariel’s engagement ring.

Shit.

This would definitely destroy Liam if it wasn’t already.

Drake stared at the ring some more before glancing up at Liam. “But…how? I don’t understand...”  

Liam scoffs, running his hands over his face, wiping away the tear tracks like they were not there in the first place.

“Beats me. I thought she was happy.”

Drake glanced down at the letter again. He couldn’t help but read it again, the words making his heart ache for his best friend.

To my dear Liam,

I am sorry that I am writing this to you but I felt like this was the only way. Before I say anything I want you to know that I love you. I love you with everything in me. You are the best thing to happen in my life and I thank the stars every day that you walked into my bar that night.

Even writing this is breaking my heart because I know that after this letter, this will be the end. I know that this wasn’t what you expected and I understand if you are angry at me. I would be too but it is the only way for you to let me go. I knew that you wouldn’t otherwise.

I’ll be long gone after you get this. It’s not hard considering you are always working and that is not your fault. You’re the King of Cordonia. You have a duty to your country and the people that reside within it to do the best you can for them.

The last year has proven that and the changes and advances that you have done shine so brightly and I am so immensely proud of you, my love.

You have a determination and a drive to protect your country and to see it thrive and I admire that about you so much. It’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place. Your unquenchable desire to see it thrive and prosper and to see your people happy. You have succeeded with that. You are one incredible King but you are an even better man.

The last year as your wife and queen has been the best experience I could have ever dreamed of. You have made me so happy. So happy I could burst. The things that we have done together for this country is something that I will treasure forever. To work together as a team and brainstorm with the ideas that have come to fruition are some of our biggest accomplishments.

Being Queen was a responsibility that I understood perfectly. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. You had warned me plenty of times during the engagement tour and the Unity Tour what was to be expected. I just didn’t know how much pressure it would put on my shoulders. Maybe I’m a coward for doing this because I know I am. I want you to know that you should not blame yourself for this. This is my transgression to hold on to – not you.

There are only a few regrets that I’ll have after saying this goodbye.

The few things that I will regret is not seeing your face every day when we wake up together and marvelling at how a man such as you loves me. My regret is not kissing your lips a little longer or hugging you tight to me for just a few moments more or just drowning in your eyes that I love so much.

But there is one thing that I will never ever regret and that is you, Liam. You have been the greatest adventure of my life. You are the only thing that could break me and as I write this I almost don’t want to go but I have to. You have to understand that.

Please, please forgive me, my love.

Remember that I will always love you.

Yours forever and a day,

Ariel

The letter, the only clue to Ariel’s disappearance, remained the sole piece of her left. Clothes, shoes, jewellery, wallet, every remnant of evidence to know that she had once lived there was gone. It was a wonder she wasn’t caught.

The Queen of Cordonia had vanished, leaving a broken-hearted man in her wake and a country in mourning.

[jchb32273]

So, it has been awhile...

But there have been TWO Chapter updates to Kylara’s Origins since I last posted (SORRY!)

Chapter 36 - Kylara and the rest leave Denerim (finally... lol), find Cullen’s family in South Reach, and make their way into the Brecilian Forest - where they meet the Dalish. Can they get the last Grey Warden Treaty honored?

Chapter 37 - Sent into the deep wilds of the forest, Kylara, Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne are searching for a way to help the cursed Dalish from becoming werewolves... 

~~~~~~~~~~

A snippet from Chapter 37... Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

This connection, this bond Ali and I share… It must mean something! I thought to myself. The fact that it is both physical and mental… perhaps this means we are truly meant for one another? I want to ask the First Enchanter, but I will have to do it in person. I can’t risk a message being intercepted by Eamon… or even Teagan.

“You look like you are thinking some deep thoughts there, love. Everything all right?” Alistair asked, a slight look of concern on his handsome face. “I know I couldn’t really give back what you gave me this eve- ”

I stood up and put my finger to his lips. “No, I wasn’t thinking about that.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “We just need to find Witherfang soon… and get this mission over with.”

“I agree. Let’s get back to the camp before they think the werewolves ate us, or something like that.”

From the deep shadows of the forest, Darkfire growled. “You see, my brothers and sister? They intend to kill Witherfang! We cannot let this happen!”

“I only heard the woman say they needed to find Witherfang… not ki- ” Wildstorm was cut off abruptly as Darkfire clawed his snout.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a werewolf, Wildstorm! Run back to Swiftrunner and The Lady like the coward you are.” Wildstorm quickly ran off into the dark. “Mysticmoon, Scarhunter, you are with me?”

“Aye, Darkfire. These human interlopers will do no harm to Witherfang,” Scarhunter snarled.

“When do we make our move?” Mysticmoon asked.

“Deep dark. When they are sleeping and helpless.” Darkfire bared his teeth. “They will all die tonight!”

We were all getting ready to sleep, but there was an uneasy prickle on the back of my neck. Ali and Zev both noticed my disquiet.

“What is it, love?” Ali asked.

“I am not really sure why I feel something bad is about to happen, but…” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Keep your weapons close tonight.”

“I never sleep unarmed.” Zev gave a teasing smile. “I’d make a pretty poor assassin if I did.”

“Really?” Alistair had a look of disbelief on his face. “What about the times when you’re with Leli?”

“You really want to know where I keep my weapons in that situation?”

Alistair suddenly shook his head vigorously, which caused Zev and me to laugh. It helped to lighten the mood just a bit, but I still warned everyone to sleep lightly tonight.

Our campfire was down to coals when I heard a twig snap. I nudged Ali in the ribs. He very gently kissed the back of my neck to reassure me that he’d heard it too. Peering through my eyelashes I saw Zev’s eyes glitter in the light of the dying coals before he pretended to be sleeping again.

I carefully reached up and placed my fingers on my crystal. I wasn’t sure if it would work but figured I should try. I reached out with my senses to see if I could pinpoint where the attack might come from. In my mind, I saw three blurred images, one coming from each side of our campsite.

“Three,” I breathed out. Ali gave me a gentle squeeze. He had heard me.

I saw Zev was peering at me again, so I tapped my finger on the dirt. One… Two… Three… He gave the barest nod of his head.

Now we waited.

A moment later I saw the shadows shift near Zevran’s tree. A mud-brown werewolf was creeping out of the dense foliage. It raised its claws for a lethal strike, but the next second it was howling in pain!

“My eyes! I can’t see!”

Zev was on his feet daggers in hand. One of them was bloody and I saw why. He had slashed the were across its face, effectively blinding it.

“Scarhunter, you fool!” I heard from behind me. Ali pushed me out of his arms and I rolled, grabbing my staff along the way, over to where Wynne was. My job was to keep her and the unconscious Dalish elf safe and let Ali and Zev handle the weres. I felt her tremble behind me.

“Don’t worry, Wynne. They’ve got this,” I murmured to reassure her.

The werewolf that had shouted from behind me was now jumping towards Alistair. She (I wasn’t really sure how I knew it was a female, but I did) quickly found herself impaled on his sword. She gave a shriek as she died. An angry howl came from the third werewolf, who was still in the woods.

The blinded brown were was now slashing wildly all around, trying to hit Zev, who kept dancing out of the way. I had never really appreciated how light he was on his feet; he was quite amazing to watch. All too soon, he slashed the brown werewolf’s throat and it fell to the ground dead.

I was so preoccupied keeping Wynne safe and watching both Ali and Zev in action, that I had temporarily forgotten about the third werewolf.

Claws suddenly raked across my back and I screamed!

Wynne managed to catch and help me to the ground. She quickly began casting a healing spell to stop the bleeding. I whimpered in pain.

“Brasca!” Zev shouted. He pulled out several small hidden knives and flung them into the dark where the attack on me had come from. Yelps of pain indicated that his weapons had found their target. Alistair ran into the woods as the pained cries of the werewolf receded into the forest.

A moment later, he came rushing back into the camp and fell to his knees by my side.

“It got away.” He cursed out loud and then anxiously glanced at Wynne. “Is she going to be okay, Wynne?”

Wynne was in tears, but she kept casting her healing spell. “I-I don’t know. These scratches are pretty deep.”

“I can help,” a voice spoke out of the darkness.

As Zev was piling dry timber on our coals to get the fire going again, an elf with short reddish-brown hair stepped into our camp.

Wynne was completely shocked. “Aneirin?”

“Wait, I… I remember your face… but younger, more impulsive, stern… Wynne?”

Tears in her eyes, Wynne sobbed softly. “I thought they had killed you!”

Aneirin nodded. “The very nearly did. The Templars found me while I was searching for the Dalish… They ran me through and left me for dead. But let us not dwell on that now, your young friend needs help.” He pulled a pack off of his back and began pulling out bottles and various plants, both dried and fresh. “Wynne, you need to reopen those scratches on her back.”

“What?!” Alistair shouted. “Why?”

“We need to purge the infection,” Aneirin replied calmly. “If we don’t… well, I am sure you don’t want that result.” He then handed Alistair a hard piece of leather. “Are you her bonded mate?”

Ali blushed a bit, but then quickly replied, “We are a couple.”

“Fine, then. Have her bite down on this… and you will have to hold onto her. Keep her still. This, unfortunately, will hurt.”

[makeste]

What are your favorite hero names?

oh man there are so many. I had to limit myself to a top twenty, and even that was rough. anyway so first off, a few runner ups because I couldn’t go without mentioning these:

Vlad King - to be clear, this isn’t actually one of my top hero names. but I’m mentioning it here because back when I was first reading the series, one of the fan scanlations -- either Fallen Angels or Mangastream, I forget which -- had originally translated his hero name as Brad King. which, to be frank, would have been one of the greatest hero names of ALL TIME. you can’t imagine my disappointment when I finally learned the truth. it still haunts me to this day.

Jack Mantis - this is Kamakiri (a.k.a. the guy from class 1-B who can grow knives out of his body)’s hero name. my question is, why the Jack. the mantis part, I get! that’s fairly obvious! but the “Jack” is forever a mystery to me. it just adds this little layer of intrigue.

Mr. Brave - this guy is one of the few good things to come from the Basement arc. don’t get me wrong, he is completely useless. but his name? absolutely legendary. this guy, with his power of ripping his own hair out and turning it into a sword (yes that’s his quirk), an ability that could be easily duplicated or bested by literally any jackass who just went out and bought their own damn sword, really thought to himself, “I am going to be the BEST MCFUCKING HERO THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN. I AM GOING TO NAME MYSELF... MISTER BRAVE.” and they let him, you guys. they let him.

anyway so now for the top twenty!

20. Can’t Stop Twinkling - this isn’t a name so much as it is poetry in three words. I still cannot believe that Aoyama went up to Midnight with a hero name that sounds more like the world’s greatest Dear Abby letter, and she actually let him keep it. I’m not 100% clear on how this all works, but I like to think this means that Aoyama’s fellow heroes have an actual legal obligation to call him this in battle. I don’t think we as a fandom and as a people really take enough time out of our lives to stop and be grateful for Aoyama’s existence.

19. Uravity - it’s a pun!! it’s so cute and I love it!! and it’s such a perfect name in that it just instantly sums up and defines her whole brand, bringing to mind both Ochako the person and Zero Gravity the quirk. honestly she is one of only a few kids whose hero name I never space out on. with a lot of the others I usually have to pause for a sec and be like “wait, what was their name again?” but never Ochako.

18. Present Mic - this would make a really great band name honestly. I just like it. I’m pretty sure Horikoshi was going for “present” as in the verb meaning “to perform”, like in “presentation”, but to tell the truth I always pronounce it like “present” as in “gift” or “the present time”, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but IT’S JUST WHAT MY BRAIN DECIDED TO DO. anyway.

17. Tsukuyomi - I know this name has its origins in Japanese mythology, but to be completely honest I’ve always just associated it with Itachi’s infamous genjutsu attack from Naruto. I just think it’s the gothest thing ever and absolutely perfect for Tokoyami lol.

16. All Might - there’s just something about this name that kind of makes me just want to pump my fists and go “YEAH!!” I really like the use of “might” as a noun rather than “mighty” as an adjective like you see in so many classic superhero names. it’s just so much cooler somehow. this name really does conjure up the image of the strongest guy in the universe.

15. Midnight - honestly I’m almost mad that this wound up being a hero name, because it would have made a perfect villain name. it’s dark and mysterious and sexy. it’s no wonder why Midnight chose it lol. anyway so my girl is a bit kinky, nothing wrong with that, and it’s also a perfect name for someone whose quirk puts other people to sleep. it’s just such spot-on branding, I love it.

14. Ingenium - fun fact, I had no idea what this meant when I first came across it because I don’t speak Latin! apparently it means “genius” or “talent.” which is a very good meaning for a hero name! but honestly the real reason I love it so much is because it’s Iida’s tribute to his brother, and I am just such a sucker for that kind of shit. damn you Iida siblings. quit giving me all these feels.

13. Shouto – yes, seriously. I know a lot of people hate this name, and it’s always getting flak for being bland and uncreative. but I honestly think it’s a perfect name for Shouto. firstly because Shouto himself is very much the opposite of flashy in a lot of ways. he’s not particularly animated or attention-seeking; he is a very calm, sort of still-waters-run-deep person, and I think the lack of a snappy brand name fits that personality. I’m even more delighted that it hasn’t remotely curbed his popularity at all (at this point I think the only kid hero with more in-universe fans out there is Momo, and even then it’s probably a close thing), and I think a big part of that is that people are drawn to his unpretentious nature, especially in comparison to a lot of the other heroes out there. but most of all, I like the name because of the simple yet powerful way it serves as a declaration that he is his own person. he’s not his father, and he’s more than just a Todoroki. he is himself; he is Shouto. anyway so yeah, to me this is a fantastic name with so much depth and meaning.

12. Battle Fist - this is Kendou’s hero name AND IT’S PERFECT. like, holy shit. what should we call the girl who goes around punching bad guys around all day with her giant hands. how about BATTLE FIST. there really isn’t much more to say about this one, honestly. its greatness speaks for itself.

11. Vantablack - imagine being such an enormous douchebag that word of your douchey exploits made it all the way over to some guy in Japan who spends 95% of his waking hours writing a manga and has almost no free time. fun fact, although Anish Kapoor is the only one licensed to use the color Vantablack, the name Vantablack is still owned by Surrey NanoSystems (a.k.a. the guys who actually invented it), and so I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who decide whether or not someone else gets to use it. I wonder if Kapoor is pissed about his color being referenced in a popular shounen manga. anyways, all of that speculation aside, it really is the perfect name for someone with Kuroiro’s quirk.

10. Endeavor - look, say what you will about Endeavor the person (although I’m personally a big fan of the way his redemption arc is being done and think he’s a fascinating character, albeit a very flawed one), but there’s no denying that Endeavor is a badass name. but what’s really great about it is how it so perfectly captures the admirable part of Endeavor, the one thing about him that’s actually worth praising. he never gives up. he’s always pushing, striving, struggling forward no matter how hopeless it seems. and that’s a worthy trait, and it says something about him that this is what he chose for his hero name. a name that has nothing to do with fire, nothing to do with his quirk, nothing even to do with his goal of becoming #1. it’s simply a name that means to make an effort; to try and achieve something. and I like that.

9. Sugarman - this IMO is easily the most overlooked and severely underrated hero name in the series. it’s a hidden gem. everyone always forgets about Satou just because his power of being a Strong Punching Guy doesn’t particularly stand out in a manga chock full of strong punching guys. but he is a badass and a great character, and honestly “eating candy makes me super strong” is possibly the single greatest quirk in the history of time and I am jealous. anyway, so this is a really straightforward name, but it’s really smooth and catchy somehow and so it’s one of my favorites.

8. Gale Force - this is Inasa’s hero name! it’s another one which is criminally underrated, much like Inasa himself. airbender powers are just so badass you guys. wind is so badass. this name is all hurricaney and tempesty and super cool and powerful-sounding. this is one of those names that I’m honestly surprised wasn’t already a mainstream superhero name. Marvel was all “nah, we’ll just go with ‘Storm’”, like come on you guys where is the creativity.

7. Red Riot - this name is a fucking grand slam. it’s alliterative! it’s catchy! it’s got the word “riot” in it! it’s an absolutely perfect name for a passionate guy whose quirk lends itself towards good old fashioned brawlin’ and head bashing. the fact that it’s got additional meaning as a tribute towards Kiri’s own personal hero is just the icing on the cake. this is another name that Marvel probably legit wishes they had thought of first. it’s easily the best hero name out of everyone in class 1-A imo.

6. Sir Nighteye - hilariously for the longest time it was not confirmed whether or not Nighteye actually had a real name (he does! but I’ve forgotten it lol), and so there was this lingering question, absurd as it was, of whether or not Nighteye’s parents, whoever they are, were descendants of some proud Nighteye clan, and whether they had really, actually named their child “Sir.” anyways though, I love this name. it’s super cool and mysterious and perfect for someone with future-seeing powers, and the “Sir” just makes even awesomer because it implies that the Queen really liked him or something.

5. Mt. Lady - this name is a stroke of genius. supersize-me powers are a dime a dozen, but the characters always have names like Giant Man or Giganta or Goliath. as far as I know, no other superhero characters have ever thought to name themselves after mountains, let alone to name themselves as if they WERE a mountain. like, she isn’t “mountain lady”; she’s “MOUNT Lady”, as if she were an actual tectonic peak. it really bothers me that I can’t adequately describe in words why I love this so much. I just do!! I think she should get an award.

4. Suneater - Tamaki is out here proving to everyone that your hero name doesn’t need to have jack shit fuckall to do with your actual quirk in order to be completely badass and iconic. sometimes I wonder what Tamaki does when people ask him “out of curiosity, why did you pick that name?”, which someone surely must have done at some point. he probably turns beet red and tries to dissolve into the background. but anyway, the general public does not need to know the meaning of his hero name in order for it to have meaning; we know what the meaning is, and that it’s his way of saying “I believe in myself because my friend believes in me”, and honestly that’s all that matters. I am still of the opinion that certain other people whose childhood friends held a lot of unwavering belief in and admiration towards them could do worse than going down this same hero name route, but we will see! anyways Suneater deserves all your respect.

3. Best Jeanist - I had so much love for this name from the start, and then I found out it was a real, actual award. for people who make good jeans, or are good at wearing jeans, or something. it’s run by the Japan Jeans Council, which is also a real and actual thing. but anyway, despite it not being as wholly original of a name as I thought, it’s still iconic, and I love that he went with something that was recognizable while still fitting his quirk, and which has the added implication that he is the motherfucking best, because he is. also, given that he probably chose this name while he was still in school, and that only public figures generally seem to be eligible for the award, this implies that he chose the name Best Jeanist first, and then went on to win the actual award eight years running. presumably because the JJC got very flustered and were all, “IT’S LITERALLY HIS NAME... WE HAVE TO GIVE IT TO HIM... WE HAVE TO”, and so they did. anyway so that was a goddamn power move on his part.

2. Gang Orca - first of all, if you are an orca man, then naming yourself after orcas is a pretty apt thing to do and I have to respect that. but then along comes the “gang” part, out of absolutely NOWHERE, and it absolutely SMASHES. like, this name comes up to you and it slaps you in the face. GANG ORCA. HE’S A BIG AGGRESSIVE DOLPHIN MAN AND HE’S NOT HERE TO FUCK AROUND. IS HE ACTUALLY IN A GANG?? WE DON’T KNOW. BUT HERE HE IS, READY TO YEET YOUR DELINQUENTS AND HUNT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SEALS. this name fucks so hard it came within inches of the number one spot. he is a ruffian and a champ.

1. Eraserhead - last but not least, the guy who DIDN’T EVEN PICK HIS OWN NAME. his best friend had to do it for him, and out of love, came up with the SINGLE BEST HERO ALIAS IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND. first of all, this name sounds like a very funky and electronicy Thom Yorke song. second, it conjures up the image of a man with a big no. 2 pencil head, which could not possibly be further from the truth. it’s just so whiplashy in the best way possible. third, the very existence of this name is seriously a goddamn miracle. he could have been “Power-Stopping Man.” or “Sleeping Bag Man.” or “Scruffy Hero: Tired Man.” or just “Shouta”, but unlike Shouto there wouldn’t have been any actual meaning to it; it would have simply been a case of him not giving the slightest of fucks about coming up with a real name. but rather than any of these, thanks to the power of friendship we were blessed with the greatest hero name in recorded memory. this is one of the few kindnesses fate has ever bestowed upon Aizawa Shouta in his tragic, exhausting life, and I for one am eternally grateful.

anyway so that’s my list! sorry if I left out anyone’s favorites! but I think all of these are deserving of love. also if you want to see the single best thing Japan has ever come up with, please go visit best-jeans.com. they even have an instagram lulz.